


May the Force be with you

by HkHk



Series: Jedi in Thedas [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, Genderbending, Jedi, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HkHk/pseuds/HkHk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Herald of Andraste is a polite, demure young human woman who is an easy face for the Inquisition to put forward. She was also open to suggestions and eager to learn, and a good fighter. This was exactly what the Inquisition needed. May the Maker watch over them.</p><p>Or</p><p>A somewhat bewildered Jedi Padawan tries to navigate this strange backwater world and find her master. </p><p>Or (Actually)</p><p>The Fade stuff really freaks her out and she would really like to get back home and not deal with demons and stuff. Her master is also missing and she <i> can't </i> feel him through their bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another crazy crossover with a Jedi herald, which isn't too bad of a thing. Really. Promise. 
> 
> Even if I did take Anakin and turned him into a girl and totally tweaked the universe so it'd work for my crazy crack stuff. But there is a reason as to why I decided to genderbend aside from my own personnel preference, but also to explore certain societal expectations.

Her head hurt. 

It was really all she could focus on. Well, she also felt pain all over her body and especially in her left hand but it was really nothing compared to the pounding throbbing pain in her head. It felt as if she agreed to let a clan of younglings jump on her head. Which is preposterous. Her head could only fit one youngling at a time and there was no way she was going to let a whole group jump on her.

_Your thoughts are certainly interesting._

"Ugh." Her mouth tasted like cotton and blood. 

_What a delightful creature you are, nothing like a mage but certainly close enough._

Who was talking to her? That didn't sound anything like her master. Speaking of her master, where was he? Where was she? The last thing she remembered was the sky falling down, pipes bursting and the limp form of her master draped over her shoulder. 

As her senses returned, she became awfully aware of the jagged ground she was lying on and the sound of people. Shouting. Running. The air smelled of burnt ozone, not unlike that of an activated lightsaber. 

_Oh my darling,_ The voice purred. _You are far from home_

"Who are you?" She asked the voice in her head, her mind muddled and fogged to a point where she didn't even question the logic of asking a voice of its origins. 

_No one important, just a Nightmare._

The sound of feet pounding on the ground in great urgency grows louder as the seconds tick by. She knew she couldn't move, not now, not with every part of her feeling weak like a newborn. Even her connection to the Force felt frayed, a small creek instead of an ocean. She groans, again. 

_Sleep, Ani._

So she did, it wasn't as if she could resist. The fog rolled in and submerged her. 

The last lingering feeling she had was that of fear.

//

The survivor they picked out of the rubble was oddly...very priest like. Well, her clothing was. It was as Lady Nightingale remarked, one that would not be remarkable in a chantry. 

The items upon her person were quite interesting, a metallic hilt, stowed away at the Spy Master's behest. Cassandra would have very liked to have fiddled with it. It was much like the hilt of a sword which begged the question as to where the pointy end was as Varric would say. Maker, the dwarf had not stopped talking ever since the Conclave was destroyed. It was not unwanted, the chatter was useful and it made her feel as if she wasn't the only one panicking after the disaster. 

Her Most Holy was dead and all they had was an unconscious woman, a youth with strange clothing and no doubt a strange story. 

Solas, useless apostate that he was, could only speculate about what the green mark was. He was at least able to halt the progress and keep their only lead from dying. Now he had joined a team to clear demons from the path to what used to be the Temple of Andraste. Perhaps he wasn't too useless. Just annoying enough. 

"Cassandra." Leliana stalks in, she doesn't walk as much as she appears from the shadows that she'd made her home in. "The prisoner is awake." 

She snaps her gaze from the breach in the sky and nods. 

It was time to work for she was the Seeker of Truth and she will find the answer. 

//

Anakin Skywalker stared at the glowing green mass in the sky and tried to maintain her Jedi calm. 

It wasn't working. 

She could feel it. She could sense it, the swirling lines with its luminous and ominous green tendrils, reaching-forever reaching. It wanted to swallow the world. As a general rule objects did not have emotions, but living beings tend to leave an echo of themselves around something they really liked or where they died. 

The Breach felt like malcontent giving form, it didn't want to be there and it certainly showed that by spitting things out. 

She could feel it, a nexus that was growing larger and larger. It burned brightly in the Force. 

She followed after Cassandra like some long legged creature, stumbling over bits of rock and skidding on the snow. It was hard to focus. Her hand kept sparking, sporadically seizing every few breaths. Many times she had to stop, to stop her pain down and to focus. 

Her captor, or guide, hard to tell which at the moment set a grueling pace. For a woman in armor she could move fast over uneven terrain. 

If it weren't for her lack of Force sensitivity, Anakin was pretty sure Cassandra could have been a Jedi Master with the way she scowls. Her and Master Windu would be friends no doubt, sparring partners, bull shit detectors and general all around bad asses. 

That idea was reinforced even more when _things_ appeared. 

Anakin swore and dove as a slow moving projectile flew over her head. From her hiding spot, near a few crates, she watched as Cassandra dove into the mess, swinging her weapon around. Frightening. Not Cassandra, but the creatures. They felt...strange. Not something she'd ever encountered before. Different. Empty. There but not there, an echo of something that used to be. 

The crate next to her exploded. 

She flinched, as bits of wood and wood pulp flew out, up and around her. 

The green humanoids were directing their attentions to her. Were they ghosts? Lingering spirits of the dead? They had no feet. 

Anakin rolled, grabbing the first thing that she found. Of all the time to lose her lightsaber. She could hear it now, her master's lecturing voice, the words. 

_Your lightsaber is your life, Anakin. Do not lose it again._

"Yes Master." Anakin muttered under her breath, as she pulled the shield up and in front of her. 

The wooden shield took its beating most gracefully. 

"It is over." Cassandra said flatly, using her palm to push the shield down, her eyes calculating. "Do you know how to use a sword?" 

Anakin glanced at the naked sword in Cassandra's hand and nodded. 

"Good. Take that one." Her words grew quieter, almost pained. "For I cannot protect you."

She did as bade, almost dropping it in surprise. The weight was alarming. Not that it was too heavy or cumbersome but that it had any weight at all. She buckled it, the sword, the scabbard to her waist, hoisted the shield up with her other hand and raced after Cassandra. 

Worst backwater planet ever.

She could really go for some kaffa.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric says hi to the Kid.

Varric's opinion of the entire matter was that things were going 'tits up' in Thedas. There was a massive hole in the sky that vomited demons. Normally demons could only appear if there was blood magic or a possession. But here they were, demons in his face and trying to rip it off. 

"Come here." Solas shouted, grabbing the newcomer's hand and dragging her towards the tear in the veil. 

With a thundering crack the tear was sealed. 

Varric turned around to get a good look at their "savior". Pretty girl for a human, brunette hair that was tied back into a pony tail and a soft face. Almost reminded him of Hawke, not the appearance, they didn't look similar at all but he was a writer and he could see a main character when he sees one. She was tall, young as she was, still growing into her lanky frame. But she was dressed in something he'd never seen before, a mix of brown and black, in a style that was reminiscent of the chantry. There was layers of fabric on top of fabric, as if someone took the idea of what cloistered really meant and ran with it. Much like what a mage wears. 

Then there were the weapons. Boy, that was something. The wooden shield and the sword looked so strange on her, as if they were just tacked on with a bit of glue. It just looked off. The writer in him began to make notes as to what would match up, the sort of armory required to make this bedraggled looking person into a hero. The hero that Cassandra needs, the hero that Thedas needs. He'll be there to help.

"I'm Varric." He smiled up at her but his gaze, like everyone else's is drawn to her hand. 

She smiles back, but it doesn't reach her eyes. There is worry etched on her brow, it is obvious her mind is a thousand miles away. 

Ah, a tragedy then. Not an adventure novel at all. 

A pity, he was looking forward to a humorous tale but then after Hawke, all he'd been thinking of was how things could go so terribly wrong. 

//

Anakin had long shed her armaments, they were slowing her down. The _thing_ that stood in the middle of a massive crater screamed at the soldiers and swatted at them as if they were nothing. 

It was Pride. She could feel it. Grating across her skin, seeping past her mental barriers, a roiling sea of emotion that threatens to flood her very being. 

She had never felt such pure intention, emotion that wasn't colored by anything else. Even the least sensitive would have been able to pick up on it. 

As daunting as that was, it was nothing compared to the gigantic glowing green hole in the air. Often times, her master had described to her what she feels like in the Force. That she felt massive, bright, like a star all encompassing. She was the sunrise that turned night into day. 

The green hole, the rip in the fabric of reality, was brighter than her. It blinded her to the Force. It pulsated. The mark on her hand throbbed like a heartbeat. 

"Seal the breach!" Someone shouts, probably the scary tall woman with the scar on her face. 

Seal it? How? Like she did before, pointing her hand at it and hoping it worked? No, it wasn't that. Think Anakin, think. People are dying while you stand there looking like a youngling on her first day. The mark and the breach are the same, they gravitate towards each other, they react to each other. That was how you opened it, something reached across and touched, causing it to open. Now you have to consciously do the same. 

But to close it. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Open your senses, let the Force flow through you. Put aside the roaring sound, focus on the green thread that runs between you and the breach. 

Anakin lifted her hand and pointed it at the breach. 

Focus. 

_Feel, don't think. Let the Force guide you._

"Yes Master." 

In her mind's eye the breach bulged outward, before turning everything into a glorious white. 

//

Cassandra sighs, rubbing her forehead with her hand. "You are certain we want to do this? Allow people to think that she is the Herald of Andraste?" 

"Yes, it will certainly help the Inquisition's purpose." 

Leliana stands apart from them, examining the map carefully. Her hood covers much of her profile. Not that she needed it, Leliana had long learned how to use shadows to mask her. Cullen stands closer, his hand on the hilt of his sword, worried. 

"Cassandra is right. We don't even know who she is. You don't know who she is." Cullen points out. "Or where she came from." 

"She is young and the young are easily molded by those wiser than them." Leliana says sharply. "Despite my lack of information, I am a good judge of character. She can be manipulated." 

Out of all of them, it is Josephine who interjects. "Leliana...should we not just tell her the truth and explain we need her help?" 

"And what if she doesn't want to help? What if she runs away? Deserters are common when faced against demons. There were a few when the Warden summoned allies to fight the Blight. And that was a Maker blasted Blight! This...this is.."

"She promised her help when she had no reason to." Cassandra replied, as forceful as she has always been. "Unskilled as she was, she did not falter, not even when faced with that massive demon. Trust builds better bridges than lies." 

"Did that help you when you tried to look for the Champion?" 

There was an awkward silence as Cullen glanced between the two women, and decided to firmly remain out of it. 

"Seeker?" A timid looking elf peeked past the door. "The Heard of Andraste is awake. You said to alert you, at once." 

Cassandra broke eye contact with Leliana, turning to look at the elf. "Thank you. Can you bring her here?" 

"Yes Lady Cassandra..." The elf girl stepped to the side and the Herald stepped inside. 

Dressed in a soft tunic and pants, she looked better. Not so out of place. 

"Herald..." Cassandra paused for a second. "Anakin Skywalker, yes? That is your name?" 

Anakin nodded slowly. 

"Was there anything you needed?" For what reason would they be searched for if not to speak to them? 

"Yes, do you have my clothes? I woke up like this and....nice as they are, I don't feel all too comfortable in them." Anakin said softly, demurely like any high born lady. If it weren't for the accent, she would be the picture of the perfect Andrastian that the Inquisition needed. "And my things, all of my things. That I had on me." 

"Of course," Leliana said, pulling out a metallic cylinder. "Was this what you were looking for?" 

It was hard to say who was more surprised out of the three of them, Cassandra who wasn't expecting it at all, Cullen who immediately drew his sword at the act of magic or Leliana. 

The cylinder was...pulled. Yanked. It flew across the room and into the girl's open hand with a soft, twap.

"What did you do?" Cassandra demanded, still on high alert. She didn't see any indication of the Herald being a mage. And only mages could do those things. 

"I used the Force." Anakin said, not even looking at them, fiddling with the hilt. 

"What is, this Force?" Leliana hadn't moved an inch but she was ready for anything. 

"It's..." She began before stopping. "My master would be able to explain it better than I." 

"Master?" A Tevinter mage? A spy? Cassandra's mind worked furiously. 

Now Leliana stepped forward, without a trace of sweetness on her face. "Who are you? Please, speak the truth." Try and lie, you won't like the results came the unspoken words. 

Cassandra barely heard the reply, her mind buzzing with thoughts and ideas. The Maker would not send a Tevinter mage to save them. But neither would the Maker let her most Divine die. But she is dead. She and everyone else at the Conclave. If the Maker allowed that, then, He may send this person to them. If the Maker sent her. If the Maker had any plan in this madness. 

What was a Jedi?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Anakin looks from different perspectives and then from her own. First with Cassandra, Varric and Solas.

Leliana had lied. Cassandra knew this. It was for the good of the Inquistion, to keep the Herald here. Not that Cassandra believed it, she could tell that everything that came out of the Spy Master's mouth was lies. Lies on top of lies.

Maker forgive them. Maker forgive us. Maker forgive me.

This youth was to be their savior, the face of the Inquisition, the Herald chosen and saved by Andraste.

Did she even know what she promised herself to?

_"The Jedi are peacekeepers. We are sent to help with negotiations, catch pirates, slavers." Anakin had taken a seat, dressed in her Jedi garb, her voice soft. "Surely, you have heard of us?"_

Her hand glows even in the bright morning sunrise. It could not be hidden, the very nature of the wound resisted in being hidden. Solas had just shrugged and said, "Magic." As if that would solve everything.

Or maybe he was just being a useless apostate and was doing it deliberately to infuriate her.

It was safe to say that she had butted heads more than once with Solas.

The Herald stared at the mare as if it would bite her. "Have you not seen a horse before?" Cassandra asked, putting a foot in the stirrup and climbing up in one smooth movement. "You know how to ride?"

Anakin tries to laugh and fails, she shakes her head. "Never seen one like this. I've...ridden a lot of things, drove a lot as well. But..." She is at a loss.

"I will teach you." Cassandra offers her hand. "Now come, we have much distance to travel."

Anakin reaches out with her glowing hand, pauses, retracts and offers her gloved one.

She's tall, willowy, still filling out her frame. Cassandra could remember a time when she was much the same, a fresh faced recruit with hopes and dreams. Despite her apparent youth, the Herald had this way about her. Already there were reports of how she helped out with the trebuchet making designs that would allow for them to aim better and throw heavier loads. Or how she entertained the children, the ease of which she interacted with them spoke of practice. She joined in morning practice, to study how they fight, to learn about their world.

Cassandra wasn't sure what to make of the Herald, of this Jedi.

_"You all live together? In a temple?" Josephine asked, her hand at her quill, writing everything down. "And there are...no one to watch over you?" She asked delicately._

_"Well, there is the Council. And the Masters." The Herald looked confused as to what Josephine was asking._

_Cullen cleared his throat. "On our world, we have mages and they are much like yourself, they interact with the Fade. There is always the risk of possession from demons."_

_More confusion._

_"There are templars, they watch over the mages and keep them safe." Leliana interjected smoothly. "However, recently events have boiled over and there is open war between the mages and templars."_

_Talks continued well into the night, there was so much to say, so much to learn. They all retired a scant few hours short of sunrise._

The Herald situates herself in front of Cassandra, the top of her head brushing against her chin. The braid that marked the Herald's apprenticeship draped behind her shoulder. It was decorated with beads and in two colors, one that was paler and reddish.

Would their mages have fared better if they had the same sort of relationship that the Herald had with her master? Would they have been so steadfast and brave? So calm in the face of uncertainty?

_"What is this Force?" Leliana gestured to the "lightsaber" that the Herald had pulled across the room from her hand._

_"It's....it's in all of us, binds us. It is in all of us, and the Jedi can use it. There are many theories as to what the Force is and it would take too long to explain it. " The Herald rubs her chin, glances to the side as if to ask someone for their opinion before turning back remembering that there was no one there. "I'm not the best person to ask, I am still an apprentice. I will answer all your questions the best I am able."_

The Herald is so humble, so willing to understand. Surely was chosen by the Maker to help them in their time of need. Despite her outlandish stories. 

//

They were running. 

Anakin was in the lead, with Cassandra a close second with Solas and then Varric huffing and puffing in the end.

Dwarves weren't built for sprinting. 

Cassandra barely faltered when the Kid jumped up, flipping in the air with the ease and grace that many mortals could not do. She merely charged forward and bashed the luckless outlaw with her shield, running him over. Then with a quick slash with her sword, the edge bit deep, she cut him down. The outlaw made a gurgling noise before falling silent.

The Kid landed a few feet away, looking pretty awesome while doing so, her cloak fluttering behind her. Hm, he might even have a new hero for his book. It would be called, The Chosen One. Had a nice ring to it. 

It was the making of an epic adventure, The Chosen One and her fire sword. Don't forget her plucky sidekicks! Never forget the sidekicks, they are the foils to flesh out the main hero. 

//

It was the third rift they had found while trying to procure supplies for the Inquisition. Solas found himself actually believing that this might work out. What a fool he was to trust in Corypheus. This was all his fault. He was too weak. When he woke up the world had changed and everything he'd done...merely made it worse. 

He had to fix it, even if he had to work with the most rigid people he'd ever met. The Seeker certainly had no love for mages. The shem were everywhere. In charge. What happened to his world? What happened when he slept? Death and war. Slavery and pain. What were left of his people were delusional Dalish and the city elves who were nothing but property or servants. 

The Herald, as they named her, burned brightly. He could see it, even the other mages, weak as they were could no doubt feel it. The other mages may think that it is the magic from the mark, but it was more than that. The minuscule traces of his magic were dwarfed by her presence. No doubt the demons could see even more, want more. What a host she would make. 

Then there were her tricks. 

"Your wagon is stuck?" The Herald asks, confirming that indeed the rickety wagon's back wheels were stuck, wedged in the mud. 

"Yes, ser." The refugee nods his head, every few seconds staring at the Seeker, Varric and then him. 

Solas knew that unlike the elves of today, he was broad shouldered and tall. He stood out to anyone who was observant. Their Spymaster had certainly noticed. The question is whether or not she had found enough evidence to spot his lies. There was enough trouble for the Inquisition to investigate one apostate elf. 

He watches this, carefully, curious. 

The Herald closes her eyes, and lifts her hand. Then without any apparent effort, the wagon begins to groan, wood straining against metal, it shudders and slowly floats up. The refugee stares. And stares. 

She directs it onto dry ground the way a child would effortlessly pull a small toy. 

The refugee is on his knees and babbling about the Maker and the Inquisition. The weak minded are easily impressed. Although, Solas had to admit, that was something that isn't usually seen. There are mages who can light fires, turn things into ice, but move things with a thought? 

"Fascinating." Solas said as they continued on. "You helped him without any reward." 

"A Jedi is not to desire any materials wants, that leads to the Dark Side." The Herald shrugs, repeating a litany that was no doubt repeated to her numerous times. "I like helping people. If it makes his day just a bit easier, it was worth it." 

"A noble thought." He says without much sarcasm. "Your order is altruistic as well?" 

"Well, we don't really have much. Everything is funded either by the Republic or donations. Most of what we own, that I own is on my person." 

Her person? The clothes on her back and her strange weapon. 

"Beholden to this republic?" 

"More like a roommate who cleans the place up. While we're a part of it and certainly do missions for them, they cannot tell us to do anything that we don't want to do. It has to be decided on and agreed upon by the Council and even then, individual Jedi can ignore their directives. Not that many do."

"And this Council?" 

This time there was a bit of life in her voice, less like a drone and more like a person. "Wiser and more powerful than I."

"I see." 

"There's this little troll guy, he's like..what two feet in height? He's actually a thousand years old and the Grandmaster." Surely she exaggerates, but he could see that she wasn't. "Also has a unique grammatical structure that is different than everyone else, ever." 

"Oh?" 

"Yep. Scared, are you? Fear I sense. Return home, you must." 

Solas raised his eyebrow. "Curious." 

"Hmhm." She tucks her braid back with a gloved hand. "You know, you remind me of someone. He's also bald." 

"I assume there is some other resemblance aside from my shaved head." He was not bald, thank you very much. 

"He's terrifying, powerful. One of the council members." She looks to be lost in memory. "You're the same. I can sense it." 

They had yet to experiment how the Force and the Fade interact. 

"I see." So they could sense each other. What was he to her? "And what of the other mages?" 

Her eyes flicked over to him, mirroring the sky itself. "Little sparkles of light." 

//

She can't help but look at her hand, at the living wound that pulsated with green energy. It was as if someone had ripped a gash into her palm and then filled it with the green stuff. Would her hand ever go back to normal? She couldn't even fight with that hand. Anything that covered it ended up eroding away. It was raw Fade stuff apparently. 

Anakin clenched her fist. Despite how alarming it looked, she still had full mobility of her limb. While there was minor pain at time, it wasn't as if she lost her arm. It was still hers. Albeit, glowing. 

She pulled out a knife, for protection Cassandra had said firmly when giving it to her, and inspected her face. 

A week of romping in the forests had added a layer of dirt to her face, her hair was untidy, pulled back. Her eyes though....

Where upon her eyes were sky blue on a sunny day, they were green now. It must of been whatever happened to her, also affected her eyes. Just the coloring though, nothing too drastic, merely cosmetic. She wondered what Obi-Wan would say, seeing her now? 

She had to be on her best behavior, as the representative of the Republic, of the Jedi Order to this backwater planet. 

Could she even make anything to send a distress signal? Leliana had said there were rumors of space ports but it was to the west. Anakin knew well enough not to trust someone called the Spy Master. The woman was a mirror, her emotions tightly controlled, she showed you only what she wanted you to see. 

Now she was the Herald of Andraste on top of being the Chosen One. With her luck, she'd get another name, one that wasn't a harmless nickname like Kid. All these people were relying on her. Was this how Obi-Wan felt when he was an apprentice stuck on a war torn planet? Unsure in what to do? Or was his conviction stronger than hers? 

Blast it. What she would give to have Obi-Wan here. Where did he go? Her memories of that event and what happened prior were...fuzzy. She also couldn't _feel_ him across their bond. It wasn't as if he was dead, as if the bond was broken, simply muted. Cast into the void. 

She settled into a meditative position, hands on her knees. 

For the tenth time this week, Anakin Skywalker slipped into a trance and began to search for answers in the Force, for direction. To think that a month ago, she wouldn't have been bribed into willingly practicing meditation.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne, Iron Bull and Sera. Maybe Krem too.

Vivienne stabs at the embers with a stick, watching the sparks flare out and then die. 

_"You are the Herald?" The Herald was dressed oddly like a mage or a lay sister, but armed with the weapons a templar may own. She holds her questions until they were in private. "You're...younger than what I expected."_

_"What did you expect?"_

_Someone described in the chants, someone who Andraste would choose as her champion. Someone who is not...this._

_"Are you up for the tasks placed before you? I would rather not ally myself with a cause that will fail, all the hopes of Thedas placed on the shoulders of one individual."_

_The Herald looks through her, scrutinizing and she feels...the slightest touch, a wisp along herself. Magic? No, not magic. Not any sort of magic she had ever felt._

_But she'd heard of it._

_"Are you a mage?" The reports were that the Herald was no mage, bore no staff, fought with a glowing sword. Yet, she had felt something brush against her mind._

_"I am a Jedi." The Herald says firmly._

_Vivienne bows her head slightly. "Shall we go? This party is starting to become dreary."_

__

"So, do Jedi pop out of the ground?" Sera asked, poking at the Herald. 

"Does anyone?" She answered sarcastically back, smirking. "We're taken as children, babes. Found."

"You were raised in a circle?" Vivienne intrudes, although they were the only ones there with Iron Bull watching the plains for enemies. 

"Partially. When I was too young, my master went on missions without me. I stayed at the temple with the other apprentices." 

"Were you restricted? Or allowed to roam?" 

"Only when surpervised, on trips with the class or with our Master. But normally, we were kept inside the temple."

"Then you approve of the circles? Of the mages to be placed back into them? For their safety and the safety of everyone else?" 

The Herald looks at her again, the same way when they first met, her gaze is blazing with hidden emotions. "No." 

//

Sera almost dies laughing when she sees what happened to the Skygirl. 

"Your hair!" She points and giggles. 

Skygirl just glares and tries to remain still as Vivienne cuts off the burnt ends of her hair. "Hold still." The mage chides. 

There was a run in that ended with with fire, everywhere. Fire. Hah. A bit of screaming too and flailing about. Dragons. That was fun. Kinda. A bit. 

"You are lucky I carry scissors." 

Skygirl just fidgets looking distraught. 

Sera makes faces, sticking her fingers up her nose and sticking her tongue out. She makes weird noises. Come on, who doesn't laugh? Skygirl wasn't too stuck up, yeah? Even if she sometimes look like someone shoved a stick up her ass. Always so controlled, rigid, as if the world was gonna end if she smiled. Which might happen....don't know much magic but there was a big hole in the sky and well, anything was possible. 

"Ani..." Sera whined. "Come on, I can't do this forever, yeah?" 

She cracks a smile, tiny, it reaches her eyes and damn was it not one of the most beautiful sights in the world. 

Even if the Herald was a big person, Ani wasn't, their leader was just a girl. A small person. Just like her. They got to stick together. 

"Can I touch your fire sword?" 

"No. "

Drat.

//

The edge of the cliff crumbled just a tiny bit, enough to make the fall look quite impressive. If they jumped...well, they wouldn't be able to hobble away. 

Sera is swearing profusely. 

"Right." The Iron Bull says turning around, calculating their odds of surviving. Apparently, dragons don't like it when you hit them with a mace. Or rocks. Or getting stabbed by a fire sword. 

Their mage was injured, they had no lyrium and their healing flasks were all out. Not to mention all the loot they had, slowing them down. 

"Well, it was nice to know you guys. Tell Krem he's in charge when you get back to Haven, unless I come back, then I'm in charge." He hefted his weapon. "I can buy you time, long enough to start climbing down. It'd take a bit of time." 

"You're not leaving us!" Sera squeaks. "No way." 

"I love you too tiny." 

More squeaking. 

"Wait." The Herald or the Boss as he affectionately calls her, puts her gloved hand on his side. Even if she's tall for a human, for a girl, he was taller still. "I think I know a way out." 

"You think? I'm all ears for any plan Boss." 

"You won't like it." Her hair was shorn close to her scalp after that mishap with the baby dragon. She nods towards the cliff end. 

Ah. Good thing their mage was half conscious, she'd protest less at being manhandled. He picks her up easily, ignoring her soft protests. 

"What is the plan?" Sera asks cautiously, having not missed the nonverbal communication between himself and the Herald. 

"Jump." The Iron Bull grabs Sera by the back of her armor and leaps after the Hearld off the mountain. 

She screams at first before laughing in his ear. 

Their fall was controlled. Mostly. 

He trusted that the Herald wouldn't kill them, that there would be some sort of magical hand wave that would prevent them from being an ugly red pancake on the ground. Or a mess of broken limbs. Depending on the height that one fell, different things happened, different bones break, etc. Death may be instant or prolonged. All very messy things. 

She lands first, lightly on her feet, turning, bringing her hands up in the air. 

It felt as if they were being grabbed by large hands, and lowered gently onto the ground. From what he understood of the Force thing was that it was an extension of her will. Being able to move things with her mind, read minds, he was pretty sure she could do that. Blood magic stuff. He was pretty sure she could make people do things. "Encourage" them, so to speak. Not that he told anyone of his suspicions. Could be that she was just very persuasive. 

Sera wiggles out of his grip and runs over to the Herald, socking her in the shoulder. "That's for scaring the living shit out of me." 

"Sorry." The boss runs a hand through her short hair, careful about the burns on her skin. "I should have warned you." 

"Yeah, you should've." Sera glares up before turning her head to the side, trying to look very affronted. "Could have given me a heart attack." 

The Iron Bull grins inwardly. He always suspected Sera had a crush on the Herald, who wouldn't? Power attracts power and all manner of things. 

Rain begins to fall gently. 

"Camp is only a few miles out to the west, think you can walk?" He asks Vivienne who was still in his arms. She merely smirks at him. "I can, but I do believe it would be a grander entrance to be carried." 

So he walks, following the Herald and Sera back to camp. They were huddled together, the Herald spreading her cloak out so Sera could hide under it. 

It was too freaking adorable.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, fine, Krem. And some Cassandra and some more of Anakin and a look of the politics. And fighting.

When they got back, Cassandra was there to greet them, making this odd noise when she saw the burns. She didn't even wait for an explanation, dragging the Herald to see Solas. He made a noise, maybe one of sympathy before getting to work. His hands were very cool to the touch, as he used a spell to fix the damage. 

"I can't do anything about the hair." He pronounced when he was finally done. The burn had receded until there was nothing but shiny new skin. One could still see a slight outline, while Bull had slathered on poultices, burns were difficult to treat anyways, magic or no. "You'll need a haircut." 

Her hair was chopped very low on one side, the other side had her hair reaching her shoulder. It looked like a disaster, despite Vivienne's efforts.

"What happened?" Cassandra asked, finally, after she was certain the Herald wasn't going to develop some sort of flesh rotting disease. 

"Dragon." Anakin had taken to fidgeting with her braid, luckily that side didn't get burnt at all. "They breathed fire, did you know that? I didn't." 

"If perhaps you attended your lessons with myself and Lady Josephine, you would not be in such a predicament." 

"Sorry." She said with a weak grin. "I was occupied." 

"Yes...I heard." 

It involved a trebuchet and nugs. 

"Well, I should go." Anakin got up and began to walk backwards. "See ya!" 

Cassandra watched Anakin flee, unimpressed, she even shared a look with Solas. 

"Ugh." 

//

Krem tutted, much like Solas did, walking around the Herald. "Whoever cut your hair...were they a butcher in a former life? It looks terrible." 

"I know. Bull said you had some experience with haircuts." 

"Oh yeah, I do it for the Chargers. Hard to find a decent barber when you're trekking everywhere on missions." He shook his head. "I think I'm gonna have to cut it very short, take a bit off the top, even it out on both sides." 

"How short?" 

"Well..." Krem's finger hovers about an inch and a half from Anakin's skull. "That much. Unless you want to go with a partial shaved look. It could work." 

"Let's go with, no." 

"Right then...so, just wondering, who did cut your hair? I'd like to know who to avoid." 

"...Vivienne." 

"Ah." Krem makes a noncommittal sound. "Sounds about right. She wouldn't know what a good haircut was if it bit her in the arse. Not saying anything bad, your worship but...she's bald." He glances around as if Vivienne would show up, horned hat and all. 

//

Anakin stared at the characters on the paper and stared some more. They could understand each other, apparently Galactic Common was very common. But the writing? She couldn't make heads or tails of it and despite lessons with Lady Josephine, she still had difficulty with the letters. Not to mention the writing! When was the last time she ever wrote anything? Everything was computerized, more or less. At the very least, she could scrawl notes down that no one else can read. A secret diary of sorts. 

"Whatcha doing?" Sera dropped in, literally, from the top of the roof bringing down snow with her. 

"Studying." She said distantly, paying attention to the passage that was given to her. It was like being back in the classes at the temple, the oldest kid, standing out like a sore thumb. The other children stared at her, wondering what she was doing in their class. But it wasn't as if she could be in the same classes with others her age. She was brought in so late and she didn't know so many things. 

"Studying what?" 

"How to read." 

"You can't read?" Unlike anyone else, Sera had this way about her that made normally offensive statements less so. She sat down next to Anakin, peering over her arm. "You mean you can't read the scribbles? Is that why we were wandering around lost for ages? Cuz you ignore all the signs?" 

"Not really. I follow other...things..Force stuff." Anakin said mildly. "I know a few words." 

"Yeah, right, sky girl." Sera prodded at the words with her fingers. "So, what do ya know? You talk all proper, can't imagine you saying anything naughty like." 

"You'd be surprised." 

"Yeah?" Sera wiggled her way into Anakin's lap, plucking the pages up and grabbing the quill. "Well, here's the word for bum. You know, your shiny arse." 

"I'm pretty sure Lady Josephine wouldn't approve if I memorized what bum was before Val..whassit." 

Sera made a face. "That's why you have us. We can tell ya. In fact, I'll help. I'll write some stuff down and we play a guessing game, yeah? Till we figure out what it is." 

It suddenly occurred to Anakin, as she looked down at the elf sitting in her lap, this was highly inappropriate. But what did it matter? It wasn't as if anything was going to happen. Sera was a companion. Nothing more. 

//

If there was anything one should know about Anakin Skywalker is that she is very loyal and compassionate. She is very passionate about everything, flying, fighting and being the best Jedi she could be. Her master could attest to that, on the account of how annoying his apprentice could be. How often she let her heart decide for her. 

Slow down, her master would say. Anakin watch out for that truck, he'd say. Blast it I hate flying, he'd say. 

Passion has its place, my young padawan. But you must clear your mind or else it will rule you. 

They were attacked by a group of rogue templars on their way to Redcliffe. The battle was going well, Sera had picked a nice perch to rain arrows down, picking out the enemy archers. Solas was providing barriers for Cassandra as she charged into the templars, going into the thick of it. As for Anakin? She was right next to Cassandra, using a modified shield slam. She was trying to adapt to a new fighting style where instead of blaster bolts there were arrows and fireballs and lightning. 

It wasn't that her fighting style was inefficient, it was quite the opposite actually. 

Anakin didn't like killing, she'd avoid if she could. But enemies did not share the same sentiment and more times than not, she was unable to convince them to lay their arms down. The Jedi brought peace not war, they only fought to defend themselves. As a stranger and a newcomer, she could not tell others to do the same. 

This was their world, their war. 

She was here to help, to bring peace. 

Anakin smashed into a templar with her shield, knocking him back before using a force blast to throw the templar into the mountain side. She turned, picking out a target when she heard it. 

Saw it.

Cassandra flew back with a grunt, and lied very still. 

"Cassandra!" 

Time came to a standstill. 

Images flickered in her head. Cassandra sparring with her. Cassandra teaching her how to ride a horse without falling off. Cassandra showing her how to build a tent. The gruff Seeker smiling either out of amusement or exasperation. Camp nights filled with a comforting silence, with only the stars for light. Cassandra explaining how things worked, a guiding hand. 

Something flicked in her mind, a switch, the shield fell to the ground with a soft thump. 

Her hand went to her lightsaber, a snap-hiss and a blue blade appeared. There must of been something on her face, something that made the templars back up. 

Wouldn't have mattered. 

She cleared the distance with one force enhanced leap, bringing her lightsaber down and through the templar. Their armor gave no resistance. She went through them as if they were nothing. 

They dropped in pieces, their flesh smoking. Her gaze went to the one she had tossed earlier against the mountain. He tried to get up and run but there was no where for him to run. Anakin approached, the tip of her blade burning the grass, leaving a trail. She lifted her lightsaber up. There was such fear in his eyes. He was pleading, begging. 

No matter. 

Maybe if he didn't go rogue and attack helpless refugees she might have had more sympathy for him. Maybe if he and his cronies didn't attack her and her friends. 

Maybe if she took the matter more seriously, crushed all who resisted her underfoot this would have been finished already. Aggressive diplomacy always worked better didn't it? 

"Anakin." A hand on her shoulder. "It's over." 

Coldness seeped into her body, numbing her. Anakin blinked blurry eyes. What was this feeling? She lurched back, sagging. She felt...weak. 

Cassandra carefully took on Anakin's weight, as she applied Smite. She didn't know if it'd work and was thankful it did. With a grunt she picked up the Herald and carried her off the battlefield, away from the bodies. The pieces of bodies. She had a lot to think over. Chiefly among them, just how dangerous the Herald could be. 

Sera's arrow took the templar in the eye.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shift of POV

After that fight, there was a change to Anakin Skywalker. Before she would listen and nod and generally allowed herself to be steered this way and that way. But now she argues. A lot. Breaks the rules. A lot. Gets louder and louder with each issue. She was more than what she appeared to be, more than she allowed others to see. There was a spirit there, shining bright, burning brighter. One that cared for the people, tripping over herself to help people. 

She fought more. Harder. Faster. It would do little to squash the rumors, of men being cut down as if they were wheat, of the Herald with her fire sword. 

It was like watching a flower bloom. 

Or a candle burn.

//

You are Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, the so called Herald of Andraste. 

You wear your cloak as if it could shield you from the gaze of others, watching people bustle around with shimmering green eyes. You have ditched the shield, realizing that the defensive style that you had adopted was useless. 

You lived for battle, for the adrenaline to rush through your veins, the Force to sing through you. 

Your kill count exploded exponentially as you rush through the battlefield cutting down all in your way. There isn't anyone on this backwater planet who could stop a lightsaber. 

The flesh is weak and it gives all too easily. 

You should have realized this sooner, you think on a calm dark night. How superior your abilities are, how you could just fix everything if they just let you. 

You could save the world. 

You could use your power to save them all. 

This line of thinking is addictive and you know it. You know that it is not a Jedi's thought. But a part of you doesn't care. 

This is how it should be. They should fear you. They should respect you. 

//

You are Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, the so called Herald of Andraste. 

And the Tranquil make your gut burn with anger. They are ghosts drifting around, truly emotionless, without goals or thoughts. They exist, true but their existence is akin to a blank canvas. Others draw on them, push their will on them, make them do things. They are blind to the Force and you are blind to them. You barely noticed when one bumped into you, and she didn't seem to notice you at all. 

You think while they may be Tranquil, they are also internally screaming inside. 

The skulls your party found, dotting the landscape, made from the Tranquil. You had Solas read it to you and you could feel his anger sweep across him. You couldn't blame him. 

What the Venatori did was inexcusable. 

You ask Cassandra about the rite, how it's done and why. She answers you bluntly. You are thankful for that. She tells you how it is and does not try to mask the truth. In a way you and her are both alike. You hate being lied to and she seeks the truth. Cassandra would make a good Jedi you think. She would be uncompromising, a force to be reckoned with and you pity anyone who would become her apprentice. 

You realize, while talking to the Tranquil, that the Jedi are not emotionless. They are controlled. They are masters of their emotions. 

The Tranquil are nightmares and they join you in your dreams. 

Obi-Wan with the sunburst mark on his forehead, so agreeable, so quiet. You jerk awake, sweating, pale. 

You spend more time studying with Solas, researching magic and the Fade. You want to understand. You need to know. 

Could you be made Tranquil?

//

Cullen watches the Herald. She's never without her cloak, her hood up much like Leliana. It is as if she is trying to hide from them, from prying eyes. As a templar-former templar, he was still very sensitive to lyrium. He could still sense magic and Smite a mage if he has to, even though it has gotten more difficult as time passed. The Herald makes his skin itch. 

"We should support the mages." Leliana says flatly. "They are in need of our help!" 

"Not to mention the presence of Tevinter." Cassandra looks displeased. "A Magister!" 

"The templars should be able to close the breach." Cullen digs in his heels. "We should go to them." 

"The templars have dishonored themselves, leaving the chantry, their vows." Cassandra shook her head. "As much as I would like to know what the Lord Seeker is planning, what he is directing the templars to do, the mages should be our first priority." 

"Grand Enchantress Fiona." The Herald began, breaking up the argument between the advisers. "What is she?" 

It was Josephine who answered. "Well, she is a mage, a former grey warden and the current leader of the rebel mages but it would seem by all accounts she is no longer in charge." 

She rests her chin on a gloved hand, green eyes staring at the map. "And nothing else?" 

"No, your worship." Josephine's brows furrow. "Whatever do you mean?" 

"What are you thinking about?" Cullen asks. 

"The Fiona we met at Val Royeaux..." She muses. "And the Fiona we met at Redcliffe are two different people." 

"What do you mean?" Leliana stepped forward. "Different?" 

The Herald frowns heavily. "I sensed something strange around her. Blood magic can change how someone thinks, right?" 

"Yes...although, blood magic is not practiced in Tevinter. Supposedly." Leliana says it as if everyone and their mother knew that mages from Tevinter used blood magic. 

"I was probing her thoughts when we spoke, to figure out her end game but..." 

"What do you mean?" Again, Leliana asked the question. "You were sensing her feelings?" 

That the Herald was an empath of sorts, able to read emotions, it explained why she had such a strong reaction to demons. To her, they were pure emotion. 

"I was sensing her future. Or rather, using the Force to figure out what exactly was going on. The strange thing was that...I got nothing. It's as if someone had smited me. The Force was...unreadable. Chaotic. A tempest. That is the best way I can describe it. Something big is going down there and we should be there." Her eyes snap over to Cullen, reading him. "I'm sorry about the templars but I feel this is far more important. If we let it just run its course, we'll regret it." 

"You sense this?" Cullen had no love for mages but he didn't hate them either. That was a long time ago. They were dangerous but so was any person with a sword. "You are certain this is what you want to do?" 

"Yes." 

He sends scouts anyways to watch over the templars. What harm could it do?

//

"I hope you have a plan." Dorian said, as they walked over to Redcliffe. "You know you're walking into a trap." 

"Yep. Best way to deal with traps is to spring them." Anakin grinned. "Besides, Alexius didn't look so tough." 

"Appearances are deceiving. Most mages are. We may look pretty and well dressed, most of the time, but we can pack a wallop." 

"I haven't met any I couldn't kill." She said it so casually it actually made Dorian pause mid step. 

"He isn't your average mage, he's a magister. He also helped develop time magic. You should give that some credence." Dorian cautioned. "Arrogance will only get you killed." 

For a moment, the Herald stared at Dorian, as if her gaze could turn him into ashes. "You remind me of my master. The accent...not the atrocious haircut and the way you talk." 

"What's wrong with the way I talk?" 

"It's too proper." Sera shouted out from in front of them. "Makes you stand out." 

"I hardly think it does." Dorian looked over at Cassandra. "Does it really?" 

The Neverran princess just gave him a look, as if to dare him to drag her into their inane conversation. 

"Don't worry, it suits you." 

"As it should." Dorian muttered, sweeping his fingers over his mustache. "I've been cultivating this for a good while." 

"Just be careful of dragons, or else you'll end up like Inky over here." Sera mimicked Anakin's drastic stop, drop and roll. 

"Inky?" The Herald asked, bemused. "Why Inky?" 

"Cuz...reasons." Sera said stubbornly, sticking her tongue out and nearly tripping over a rock while doing so. 

"Is she always this....energetic?" Dorian asked in a stage whisper. "You sure she's an elf?" 

"I heard that! I'm people! Don't you forget it!" 

"Sera is Sera." The Herald said, dodging around the question. "What were you expecting?" 

"I don't know, maybe someone somber and great at shooting arrows? I mean you're...certainly not what I expected. Did you know parts of Thedas thinks you're a boy?" 

"Must be the haircut." She fuses with her hair, combing out small sticks and leaves. 

"Well you're also looming in the dark all the time, cloaked, kind of like our terrifying Spy Master." 

"Do I loom?" She asked Cassandra, drawing her into the conversation. 

"Yes, you do. It is not a bad thing. Your tallness does you a few favors." As a tall person herself, Cassandra did her own fair bit of looming, mostly over people who displeased her. 

"And you brood. I've seen it." 

"I do not." 

"What you need is a good shag." Dorian paused ignoring the sputtering. "Can you? Sleep with people?" 

Anakin was very thankful for the shadows across her face that hid her blush. "Why do you ask?" 

"Ah, hah! That answers my question right there. That's a pity. You can't even unwind properly." 

Very quickly in her head, she weighed the merits of tripping Dorian into a huge mud puddle. 

"Don't worry." He swung his arm around her shoulders. "I shall help you. Nothing shall stand in the way of true love." 

"Dorian?" 

"Yes?" 

"Remove yourself from my person before I remove you." 

"Ah, a tough customer." He retreated, smiling still. 

She thinks about how people cope, about what it meant to face a former master and realize they had changed beyond recognition. 

"We'll fix this, Dorian. I promise." 

He gave her a sad smile. "Didn't anyone tell you not to make promises you couldn't keep?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. Well to other people, mind you."
> 
> -Anakin Skywalker, Harvestmere 9:42 Dragon

In order to spring a trap, once must know it is a trap and plan contingencies. They were to act as bait, distract Alexius from the assassins from climbing into the castle. 

She even cleaned out her cloak for this. Dorian offered to bedazzle it. 

She declined. 

"They cannot come with you." Said the guard of little importance. 

Anakin tried not to facepalm. Really? They had walked into the Redcliffe castle with their weapons and now she can't take them the last few feet? Really? 

She raised a hand and gestured. "You will let them in." Cassandra gives her a hard look. She ignores it.

"I will let them in." The guard repeated.

They swept in, Anakin at the front, coming at a stop before Alexius. 

He is all smiles and gentile words. She comes for blood. He talks like a politician, everything screams lie to her, his intentions were not pure. Grand Enchantress Fiona attempts to have a say in this. 

He talks of rights and servitude. 

All she hears is slaves. 

There is a fixed look on her face. 

She never liked those who preyed on the weak and desperate. 

Or slavers for that matter.

//

The magic activates before anyone could react, not even her. Then there is a pressure, it sucks at her clothes, at her skin. 

Then water. 

The sudden displacement makes a loud noise, a sharp clapping noise. Two Venatori guards rush in. "By the Elder One!" They attack.

Anakin puts her hand to her belt and finds nothing. "Blast." There goes her weapon again. 

Thankfully Dorian took action, freezing the two soldiers in place. "That...that was a surprise." 

She wrings out water from her cloak, or tries to, before deciding it was a lost cause. They were knee deep in water, it seeps into her boots, soaks her clothes. "Where are we?" 

"More like, when are we." 

He spouts some nonsense about time travel. Anakin listens with half an ear, thinking more about how eerily similar this was to how she arrived here. Although, she still had her memories. But...it would make some sense, the displacement, the strange arrival. The amulet Alexius whipped out before they were blown through a hole in time and space.

"Are you even listening?" Dorian asks, not at all cross. 

"No." She says as she finds something sharp. It is a sword. 

"Can you even use that?" Anakin recalls that Dorian never saw her fight. 

"Of course." The sword is heavier than expected but training sessions with Cassandra, Iron Bull and Blackwall had given her muscles and a fierce appreciation for feather light weapons. "I'm the Herald after all." 

"All that means is that you can seal the rifts." Dorian is quick to reply. "Regardless, I do think we have traveled in time. Most likely forward. I never seen this before when I was here." 

"The red lyrium, don't touch it." She eyes the ice sculptures. "I think one of them had the key." 

"...Ah, perhaps I overdid it." 

Once she approached the doors, it swings open easily enough. The locking mechanism is simple. Just a few tumblers. 

They studiously avoid the red lyrium. 

It was only as they walked up, towards another set of doors, that she senses it. People. But more than that. Singing? Faint singing. Her eyes narrow at the thought. She readies her sword and opens the door. 

More Venatori. 

One runs towards her. Her eyes catches a familiar light. A red beam erupts from his hand. Time slows. He has a lightsaber? What? How.

She barely ducks his blow. 

Time speeds up. 

Her foot finds purchase on his chest and she kicks him hard enough to make stumble back. Then she chops, down, hard. An overhead two headed chop with some force enhancement. It's harder than it looks. The blade bites into the man's forearm. He screams. Her force push shoves him off the platform. 

She sees Dorian casting more magic, glyphs appearing under the feet of their attackers. She sees two others, and a mage. She notes how they are all on a platform.

They were wasting time. 

"Enough." Her voice is thunderous amplified by the Force, by her emotions. The air ripples as she slams them into the walls. 

They scream all the way down. 

"...By the Maker." Dorian leans against his staff, his eyes wide. "How..what?"

She walks over to the arm that she chopped off, kneeling down. She pries the lightsaber out of its grip. Then straightened up. With the tip of her boot she kicks it over. It looks much like her own, scarily so. She turns it on with her thumb. The red light shines on her, illuminating the area. 

"That looks like yours, but red." He states the obvious. 

Anakin could feel her stomach clench. If someone had figured out how to make a replica of her lightsaber...even without the Force it is still a weapon, a powerful one. She turns it off. 

"Let's go." 

//

Dorian provided as much support as he could from the back. He's a mage and a squishy one. But it becomes quite apparent to him that he's not important. This future they're in, it's because they vanished. That the Herald vanished. Without anyone to close the rifts, demons would continue to appear. It would be a war of attrition and they would lose. So he just watches her back. 

He creates disorder with his spells, dropping barriers every once in a while to protect the Herald from magic. She is a whirlwind. Their attackers are amateurs, moving so slowly, flailing with their weapons. He could barely see her motions as she cleaves through them. It is obvious it is more than fancy sword play that factors into fighting, but something else. She engages multiple opponents, trusting in him to watch her back. Or perhaps she is just reckless. There is a slow decline into an abyss, one that he could not see, but he could tell that it was there. Further and further in, the skeletons becomes bodies, brownish red blood stains cover the ground. 

They collect the Herald's friends, she doesn't even bother with keys or lock picking, instead choosing to cut the bars themselves. They are a fright all by themselves, glowing red, their voices layered. As curious as he is, he knows better than to poke and prod. Besides, the Herald herself was a far more interesting study. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what she's doing. It wasn't a form of magic he'd seen before. And surely, the mark couldn't do that.

Curious. 

They find the Spy Master. She looked like a walking corpse. Terrifying. He keeps his distance. Any attempt at speaking at her is met with curt words or silence. The others are chattier by a small margin. They move in silence. Leliana was right in her assertions. While he and the Herald may have just fallen into this reality, the others have lived it. 

What could a year do?

The Herald is surprisingly enigmatic and calculating. She flanks the battlefield, felling enemies with a quick snap of her wrist, cutting their arm off or running them through without a sound. There is an strange calmness on her face. Before at Haven, she would crack a few jokes but now? There is no such levity. If anything, she grows colder as time passes. 

In one of their room searches, the Herald finds a schematic. She gestures for him to read it. "It says...Dagna." The design looks awfully familiar to the weapon that she has clenched in her hand. It is a very detailed schematic, each piece written out, instructions as to how to build it. He couldn't understand even half of it. It was written in dwarven script so it made sense that the Herald couldn't read it. 

The Herald's eyes glance over at Leliana. Her lips purse. 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Yes." 

//

She seals the breach and nearly drops to her knees. Cassandra is by her side in an instant, a flask in hand. Anakin tries very hard to not back away. Did no one else hear it? The singing? It must be the red lyrium. But how could she hear it? Perhaps it is because her friends have it in their system? Is that why she could sense it? Hear it in the Force? She focuses on breathing. 

The Seeker's eyes are red and they search her for injuries. Despite their enemies best attempts, poor attempts mind you, she is untouched. Aside from the various bruising on her body, no blood has been spilled. She is only exhausted. When was the last time she had fought for so long? On little to no food? Her stomach gurgles in protest. Only a while longer until they are back in their proper time line. If Dorian can do it correctly. Her arm aches. She could feel the mark thrumming responding to the Breach. The sky was torn open, the Breach was far bigger than she thought ever possible, pieces of buildings floating at its core. There was something there. Hiding. She could feel it slid against her mind. 

"Are you alright?" Cassandra's voice reverberates. 

"Yeah." Anakin grunts, getting to her feet. "I just hate this place." 

They walk over to the massive door that stands in their way. Dorian whistles appreciatively. "How in the world did Alexius manage to get this here?" 

"Does it matter?" Leliana snaps, on edge. "Can you cut through, Herald?" 

She turns her borrowed lightsaber on and lifts it up. "Let's see." 

"Woaaah, wait a moment." Dorian waves his hands. "What if it's booby trapped? We don't know anything about the door or what it will do. I think I know how to get past it. It's a lock, it should have a key. Servants must be able to deliver food." 

They barely argue, her two listless companions listen and wait for her decision. 

Half an hour later, they arrive back at the gate. "I hope you're right." Sera mutters, rubbing her sore arm. "I only have so many arrows you know." 

"Don't you trust me?" He sets the pieces of red lyrium into the slots. 

"Not really." 

They get ready. 

When the door opens there isn't anyone there to face them, no guards, not even Alexius. Instead, he is standing before a fire, his son next to him. He doesn't turn around when they walk in, doesn't speak to them until they are but meters apart. He's not there, the son that is. Not all there. There is only grief in Alexius. It comes off him in waves. Like a man who was broken and merely awaiting his death. 

Good, this will make it easier. 

"It's time to end this, Alexius."

"And here you are, finally. I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure." 

"Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world? To yourself?" Dorian asks, looking at his mentor.

"It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end." 

"What end?" Demons? More demons? Probably more demons. "Are you talking about this Elder One?"

"How many times have I tried? The past cannot be undone. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought?" He pauses. "Ruin and death, there is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for you, for me, for us all."

It suddenly occurred to her, that Leliana was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, Felix was drawn up, a knife placed on his throat. Before she had been a mirror, capable of deflecting most probing questions and offering nothing in return but a reflection. Anakin avoided her most of the time. It wasn't that she was scared....but she also wasn't sure if she got into a scuffle with Leliana if she'd survive it. Leliana was far too much like the Dark Woman for Anakin's liking. She skirted on the dark side for the good of the Jedi Order but that sort of activity changes you. There is darkness there that can't ever be scrubbed out. Everything that Leliana did....

"Felix!" 

"That's Felix? Maker's breath Alexius, what have you done?" Felix looked dead. A walking corpse. 

"He would have died, Dorian! I saved him!" Alexius reached out with his hand. "Please don't hurt my son, I'll do anything you ask." 

Anakin's eyes dart from Alexius to Leliana. She could see it now, the shatterpoint. No. Leliana. No! Her hand darts out.

"I want the world back." Arterial blood spray out, catching Alexius in the face. 

"NO!" He throws Leliana back but it's too late. 

Anakin jumps forward, lightsaber activating mid air only to be thrown back as lightning arcs out of Alexius's hand. She hits the ground, jittery, smoking slightly. 

The fight begins in earnest. Spells fly around the chamber. Anakin ducks behind a column and tries to breathe. The muscles in her chest were tight and she was finding it hard to breathe properly. Bits of her clothes were burnt. Even from here she could hear it. A steady song that her ears couldn't detect. It was in her head. She gripped her skull with her fingers, hoping the pressure would distract her. 

This place...she could feel it press against her mind, the spindly darkness probing. What was it? 

_" Ah, I can feel you all the way from here. My how my power has grown. I am quite pleased you survived. I've never met a mind like yours. "_

There was a voice. In her head. 

_" Your barriers are not down. No, I just know a way around it. Think of me...as one of those hidden thoughts. Your true thoughts. Your fears."_

The voice was like smoke. It is gone before she could even question it.

Anakin rushes out from behind the column, spinning, throwing her lightsaber out. It bounces off a barrier and back into her hand. 

"You think I haven't learned how to block such attacks? Fools!" 

It becomes quite apparent how strong Alexius is. How strong a Magistar is. Yet, he uses it all in defense. The few offensive spells he has just knocks them away. Cassandra is constantly in his face, fearlessly charging at him. Both Leliana and Sera fire a constant stream of arrows. 

Time for a new tactic. Anakin looks around, for anything. It would be tasteless to throw Felix's dead body at Alexius...but she was desperate. And this was war. There was no time for niceties. She throws his body at Alexius. 

He vanishes before the body could even touch him, reappearing right in front of her. Ice shoots up, capturing her knee high boots, snaking their way up her body. His face is filled with grief, anger and..something else. "He talked about you." Alexius raged wildly. "We had a long talk about your potential and how I erred."

"About what?" 

"Your potential, of course." 

He was gone the next second, blurring through Cassandra. 

Then he summons demons over her. "..Sithspit." Anakin swore, as a rift opens up. 

Sera and Leliana offers some cover fire as she breaks her way out of the prison. Together they get rid of the demons. Dorian keeps Alexius busy, demanding answers, begging for the fighting to stop. For Alexius to give up. 

In the end it is Dorian who kills Alexius burning him to death. 

He's fighting tears as he knelt to pick up the amulet, digging around the Magister's still smoking corpse. "Ah, here it is. Now...I just need a few hours to set this up." 

"We don't have time. "Leliana shouts. "They are coming." 

"My good woman--"

"Shut up. I can only delay them for so long. Hope that you have your spell ready." 

Cassandra and Sera exit the room, to defend the front. There is only Dorian and Leliana left. Anakin leaves Dorian to his musing. She was no use here. No, instead she walks over to Leliana. 

"What do you know?" 

"About?" Her face may be callow and pale, but her eyes are still sharp, her mind sharper still. 

"When I disappeared, I left my lightsaber, didn't I?" 

"We did what we had to." Leliana is focused on the door. "We were at war, Herald. And we lost."

"You replicated my lightsaber. How did..how did you even find a power cell? Or a focusing crystal?" Anakin knew, dimly, that she shouldn't be too outraged. Yet the designs of the lightsaber was a closely hoarded secret. If a backwater planet like this had them, she would be disowned from the Jedi Order, surely. 

"Does it even matter?" Her gaze cuts into Anakin. "You will go back, you will stop the Elder One. None of this will happen."

Knowing the conversation was over, Anakin retreats back to Dorian. 

The hour passes all too slowly. 

//

Sera had gathered many quivers. More arrows is better than no arrows. Lots of arrows. It'd keep the darkness away. Won't it? It'd keep that nasty icky blackness from swallowing her whole, sinking her, making her think of only bits of red. Bits of red and pink. Fractals. Fractured. 

It was good to see the Herald again. Good to see her not dead. Yeah? Yea.

She takes her perch, having found the highest point and climbed it. 

The whispers were getting louder. The bits of red blot her vision. Just tiny bits. She was fighting it. The red bits. All red. 

Seeing the Herald with the red fire sword was creepy. The way it illuminated her face under the hood, the way it made her eyes shine red, it suited her. The red, did. Yea? The red was more real. It stripped away the illusions. 

She pegged the first demon that appeared. Then another. And another. 

They kept coming. 

Coming. Coming. Coming for her. For the red in her. 

Well, they were gonna have to fight for every ruddy step. She wasn't gonna be stuck in there again. 

She'd rather die.

//

Cassandra's body slid into the room. 

Dorian didn't even look up. 

Anakin did, and her lightsaber switched on without a thought. Cassandra wouldn't let anyone do that to her. Unless she was dead. The demons walked over her body. 

Sera wouldn't let them near the door. 

Unless she was dead. 

Her hands clenched painfully tight. 

"Don't." Dorian grabbed her bicep. "If you go out there, nothing we did here, all the sacrifices would have meant nothing." 

She couldn't keep her eyes from them. 

She watches Leliana die. 

//

Cassandra swears. "By the Maker!" As the spell swallows up Dorian and the Herald. 

There is only the sound of metal hitting stone. All that is left was the Herald's weapon. 

Sera draws her bolt quicker than Cassandra could even see, pointing it at Alexius. "Bring them back!" She snaps out. 

Then it appears again, the spell, depositing the Herald and Dorian, with a puff of green sparks. 

Thank the Maker they were okay. 

//

Alexius is the first thing she sees. It takes a moment for her to regain her bearings. 

He falls to his knees. 

"Is that all you got?" Despite how much bravado was in Dorian's voice, he's shaking. 

She steps forward, activating her lightsaber, her other hand reaching out. 

She force grabs him by the throat and lifts him up, her glowing fist at head height. She clenches. He sputters, hands flailing uselessly at his throat, as if he could do anything with it. His feet kick out ineffectually. She has him a foot off the ground, the tips of his boots barely scraping against the carpet. She watches him choke. 

It is most satisfying. 

Everything that happened was this man's fault. Him and his Elder One. He will die, here in pain. It will be a well deserved death. 

"Father!" 

"Herald!" Dorian's hand rests on her bicep. "Stop. It's over." 

"He dies." Her voice is raspy and deep. "Now."

"And what purpose is his death? What we saw won't happen. We're here. You're here." He remains stubbornly at her side, undeterred by any danger she may posses. "Let your anger go." 

From what seems a lifetime ago, she had remarked about how similar he was to her master.

_One of the most important things you must learn, my young padawan, is to never let your emotions rule you. Once it clouds your mind, you close yourself off on other avenues, other means of getting where you need to be. Force becomes easier when we think diplomacy has failed us. Might will become right._

He was right. Her anger had blinded her. Her thirst for revenge became all encompassing. Shame set in. Shame to relish in someone else's pain, in their suffering. 

She drops him and backs away to allow the Inquisition guards take Alexius. Anakin is quite aware of the silence. She pulls her hood over her head, walking away, to the side. Her back meets the castle walls and she breathes. She can't break down now. No matter how much she wishes to hide. The anger courses through her veins. How could she let this go? They died for her. 

"Hey Inky." Sera is standing before her, concern on her face. "That's some crazy trick you did." 

"Go away Sera." Her voice is muffled by her gloved hand.

"No way." The elf gets closer, peering up. "What happened to your eyes? They're all...red and stuff. Creepy, is it more Jedi stuff?" 

Reflexively, Anakin pulls out her belt knife and looks at it. 

No longer a sickly Fade green, they were fiercely yellow with red tinges along the outsides. Like the red dwarf star.

She was the Chosen One. How...how could this have happened?

_The most insidious thing about the Dark Side is how easily one can fall into it. You see, Anakin, it isn't some monster you fight or some villain. It is in all of us. It is the easy path, the part of us that seeks revenge, retribution. It is desperation. When we abandon our tenets, our code, that is when we fall._

For all the lecturing that Obi-Wan did, none of it seemed to have sank into her thick head. 

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force." She whispers the litany, as if it would fix everything. Her eyes remain the same, starring back at her defiantly. 

She slides to her haunches. "By the Force...what have I done?" 

There is no answer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have in all its glory and pain.

"What happened?" Leliana asked, once they were in the war room.

"What do you mean, what happened? We came, we saw, we conquered." Dorian shrugged. "What more is there?" 

She just looked at him, sharply, no doubt contemplating kicking Dorian out on his behind. "Enough to cause the Herald to nearly strangle Alexius."

The Herald is oddly quiet, hands hidden in voluminous sleeves. 

"Alexius cast a spell, no doubt this time magic that Dorian alleged he helped create. It sucked them both up." Cassandra said, a touch of pain in her voice. "I had thought the Magister obliterated them."

"A neat trick but no...It was a time spell. We were thrown forward by one year. Suffice to say, things went to the dogs without the Herald. The Breach was massive, filling up the entire sky, there were demons everywhere and oh yes, a lot of dead people."

"Are you certain this was not a trick? Thrown into the Fade? A dream?" Cullen asked, worry on his face. 

"If it was a dream then I'd eat my robes." Dorian said flatly. "I know what it was, Maker's breath, I even developed part of it." 

"For what reason would he need time magic for?" Jospehine asked from her side of the war table, writing notes on everything said, as always. "Reports said that his son was ill, correct?" 

"He wanted to save his son." The Herald spoke, finally. "To travel back to when his family was attacked by darkspawn." 

"Correct. But we could never make it go anywhere. Until the Breach happened." 

"He never dooms all of Thedas in an attempt to save his blighted son?" Leliana's face is hard as rock, her expression carved from stone. "We all make sacrifices, we all accept loss. Everyone dies."

"But wouldn't you try your best? To make it right?" The Herald asked, something in her gaze. "To save the one you love?"

They stare at each other. One frowning and one questioning. 

"Not if it destroys the world." Leliana says finally. "Not if it hurts everyone else that I love."

//

It was a surprise to find the Herald at one of the meetings, in her cloaked form, listening to one of the sisters recite the chant. Mother Giselle sat next to her, joining in. The Herald looked to be in need. Her return to Haven from Redcliffe with the rebel mages had caused quite a stir. Especially given how the mages were received. Then there was the Tevinter Magister she brought back with her, this Dorian. She trusted in the Maker, in His doings, in the path they were on but she still had her fears. 

After it was over and everyone went on their way, the Herald remained, seated, her knees drawn up. She remained in the same clothes as before, knee high boots made of some unknown leather, loose fitting trousers and a top that was a mix of brown and black. The clothing choice was a statement, a declaration. Nothing she wore bore the sunburst symbol of the Chantry or even that of the Inquisition. It said much about her opinions of the Inquisition, of her association with them. 

Her face was very young, an image that made her heart grow tender. They had elected a child to be their Herald, to brave the rifts and demons, to be their face. What were the advisers thinking? Perhaps they were desperate. When she had first saw who the Inquisition had brought, she had thought it was the Lady Seeker who was their leader. But the Herald turned out to be a young woman with a glowing hand. 

"How are you, Herald?" Mother Giselle asked once everyone had dispersed. "I did not think you believed in our Maker." 

"I don't." Came the muffled reply. 

That was a point that came up quite quickly. The Herald did not believe in a Maker or Creator. But in something else entirely. But she did not begrudge them their beliefs. Merely stayed out of the prayers, wandering out, waiting until they were done. 

"Are you in a need for..." She almost said confession before stopping herself. "A friendly ear?" 

There was a sigh. 

"Sometimes what all one needs is to speak their doubts, let it all out."

There was the sound of cloth rasping on cloth. "I don't know where to start." The Herald admitted. 

"I always find that the beginning is the easiest."

The Herald sighs again, scratching behind her ear with a gloved hand, her other glowing hand sits on her knee. "I shouldn't be here." She says finally after a moment of silence. "This mission? The events that lead to my appearance? It was my fault. I wanted to join Master Obi-Wan even though another Knight would have been a better choice. I wasn't ready for this and now I'm here, trying to help save millions of people." 

"You have always been very confident." 

She scoffs. "Of course. If I show that I'm as terrified as they are, they'd panic. My first major mission...." 

"What are you scared about?" 

"Failing? Not being the person they expect me to be?" The last part was muted, as if not to be heard by anyone else. "Fall to the dark side?" 

Mother Giselle decided to work more on the fears that she was supposed to hear. "Why do you fear failure? That is a part of life."

"Except if I fail, there is no life. Just a lot of dying. If the Breach doesn't close and the demons keep appearing, everyone will die. This Elder One will murder everyone. No one will be safe." The Herald clears her throat, adding." I won't fail, if that's what you're wondering. I can't fail. So I won't." 

But what of the path you'll walk? The choices you make, the alliances you choose. The rebel mages allied with Tevinter in order to shield themselves from the templars. It was a safety that was false, but it assailed their fears, however briefly. Already they were picking their sides, siding with the mages instead of the templars. 

"Then there is this...Herald business." The Herald said dryly. "The Herald of Andraste. Bride of the Maker. People think I walk in the Maker's light." 

"Do you think so?" 

Her eyes narrow, a shinning green that express much emotion. "I follow the Force." 

"My next question would be, do you think it is wrong for others to believe in that? That you were blessed?" 

"I don't think it matters what I think. Or how I feel about it." 

"It is a product of your upbringing is it not? To serve selflessly?" Mother Giselle hazard a guess, having heard some tidbits about Jedi. "But you must always attend to yourself as well. Knowing yourself is half the battle."

Conflict flickers across the Herald's face. "Do you believe I was brought here by your Maker?" 

"I believe that when Thedas needed a hero, the Maker sent you because you were what we needed." 

//

She knew of the Herald's presence. Now that she had focused upon it she could feel her. Her speculation was correct, the Herald was a walking Fade rift. She is immersed in its energies. To think of what power she has, what danger she possessed. The display of power at Redcliffe castle. Such an abrupt change in personality would point towards demonic possession. 

"How are you, my dear?" Vivienne looked up from her notes. "No doubt you have questions." 

That threw the Herald off track. "How do you know?" 

"Simple, you have the air of a confused student. It was easy to deduce especially with what happened recently." 

"Did you ever teach?" 

"No. I spent most of my time at court, playing the Game."

The Herald raised her eyebrows. "That must of been fun." 

"Immensely."

"What do you think of blood magic? Or...what is it?" 

"Communion with demons. A vile form of magic. Those who practice it are corrupted, tainted. They are to be destroyed. But, I would admit they are not the reason why Thedas fears us. The average mage has enough power to terrify a small village. A blood mage simply becomes possessed by a demon. That is why we need a circle. A safe place for mages to learn and practice their craft. They need discipline." 

"Ah."

"Why do you ask?" 

"Just wondering" 

The Herald shrugs with her shoulders. Vivienne notes that the Herald had gotten taller if that was ever possible. 

"If you ever need to talk, I am here." 

The Herald's eyes lock onto hers. "I'm certain I won't need to." She says politely. "But thank you." 

As the Herald leaves, Vivienne couldn't help but feel as if she's been brushed off. 

//

Blackwall smashed into the remaining enemy, crushing its legs into the wall, making it's body pop from the blow. The guts oozed around his boots. 

"Ugh, spiders." Sera muttered, picking cobwebs out of her hair and ears. "Why spiders?" 

They were in a mine shaft looking for shards to open doors that were full of undead. Of them all, only Solas looked untouched. Perhaps it was the way he walked, elf like, delicately. Or maybe he didn't seem to be worth it. 

"Better than sand." The Herald said, brushing off sand from her person, as well as bits of spider goop. "I kriffing hate sand." 

The Herald looked better, face flushed and tan. She seemed to have gotten over whatever had happened at Redcliffe. He was stationed outside, just in case anything happens. Thankfully the Magister surrendered. As for his men, some had simply vanished. It spoke of darker things, of who is the true master of the Venatori. 

"There's sand everywhere." Sera points out. "We're in a desert!" 

"Exactly." Said the Herald grumpily. "Why exactly are we here again?" 

"The shards." Solas said from his place on the other side of the room. "The elvhen treasures lost through time."

"More elfy stuff." Sera groans. "Ugh."

Solas looked like he was going to say something particularly cutting. 

The Herald placed her hand on Sera's head. "Sera." 

"What? It's old dusty crap." She said in protest, squirming from under the Herald's hold. "Elfy shit that's all in the past." 

"While it may be old dusty crap, it is at least more useful than you." 

Blackwall looks between Solas and Sera. Sera's face grows pinched, her face red and eyes watery. Solas is stony, unable to recant or perhaps unwilling to.

The Herald kneels and sweeps Sera into a hug, probably to keep her from trying to strangle Solas with her bare hands. Her robes engulf Sera, hiding her from sight. Only Sera's straw colored hair is visible. 

"Solas, that was not needed." The Herald chided. "I understand you're frustrated but--"

"Do you?" Solas snaps back in a rare show of anger. "Does anyone here understand the travesty that is before us? A culture decimated and yet no one cares?" 

"It was...a long time ago." Blackwall offers. 

Solas is shuddering, reeling in his anger. "Yes perhaps to you. But to me...." There is a moment of silence. "It has only been a short while." 

In the volumes of the Herald's robes, Sera shakes quietly, her fists pinching the fabric. 

"It would appear that with all the time I spent wandering the Fade I have lost the ability to differentiate between the past and the present. My apologies." 

There was soft whispering under the folds of the Herald's robes.

Sera appeared, still cloaked, her face still red. "Okay. I accept your apology. But say that again and I'll arrow you in the face." 

They continued on traveling. 

Half way there, Solas paused. "Wait, where is my apology?" 

//

"What are we doing?" Cassandra asked, perplexed that the Herald wanted to see her at the training area. 

"I have been thinking." The Herald disrobes, peeling her cloak off. On her waist, there are two cylinders at her waist. "And you were the best candidate."

"For what?"

She tosses one of the cylinders at Cassandra, who thankfully catches it, cradling it carefully in her hand. After a near mishap with Sera, the Herald had taken time to explain a few things. 

"You know how to use one of these things?" 

"Of course." Cassandra replied thickly, pushing the button down. "Always know where the pointy end is."

"Don't worry, I adjusted the setting." The Herald turns hers on, swinging it with ease. "I want to spar with you Cassandra. I figured you might benefit." 

"I might." The Right Hand of the Divine nodded. The weapon is strangely light. "Thank you for the honor, your worship." 

"Friends call me Anakin." 

"For the sake of propriety, I can call you Lady Skywalker." There is such an absurd look of horror on Anakin's face that Cassandra nearly laughs.

"Anakin then." The name is thick on her tongue. "Shall we begin?" 

It never occurs to her that Anakin was teaching her how to fight her. How to subdue her. 

//

"So the Herald comes to see the defeated prisoner. How very..." Alexius is chained, awaiting his transfer. "Noble of you." He finishes, sneering. 

"I wanted to ask you." Anakin begins quietly. "Was it worth it? All of this? The deception? Following this Elder One?" 

"Yes. If it worked, a thousand times. You never had a child had you? My son is my life, all I had." He leans back against the wall. "Now he will die and I won't even be there to comfort him in his last moments." 

She comes up to the bars. "What would you have done? If you had managed to go back?" 

"What do you think? I would have saved them. I wouldn't be a problem for you. I see no need to follow this Venatori nonsense as my family would have been safe. One less enemy."

"You don't believe?" 

"Oh, no I believe. I believe that the Elder One is powerful. That his army will bring darkness and death." 

"You followed him." 

"For his help, his expertise. If anyone could have figured it out, it would have been him. Given what he is." 

"What is he?" 

Alexius shook his head. "That is something you must find out yourself."

"You are such a prick." 

"I am what I am, broken and defeated. I am worthless. Do what you will. There is nothing for me here." 

//

"I can't believe you talked to Alexius without me." Dorian pouts. "What were you talking about anyways?" 

"Nothing." The Herald leans against the tree. "What is Tevinter? I've heard a few things." 

Without much thought in the matter, because really he could go on for days about his homeland. It even cheers him up for a bit, to think about home. Well, his country. Home wasn't really home. 

"And what of slaves?" 

"What about them?" Dorian pauses, realizing how that must sound. "I...forgive me but I never really thought about it until I came here. It was such a normal thing when I grew up that I never questioned it." 

He watches the Herald, because really there was nothing else to see, look a tree, oh look a bear. Oh damn, a bear. Anyways, the Herald wasn't too hard on the eyes either. If her chin was a bit more square, no breasts, and a deeper voice she'd look like a man. Much like Krem. There is something very manly about her physique. Perhaps it is because he is not used to tall women. Cassandra may also be physically stunning but she is very much a woman. The Herald blurs the line slightly, as if she teeters on the edge, undecided. 

No, that would be cruel. She is a woman. 

The Herald is a striking woman with a strong jaw, cheekbones and curling hair. Underneath the drab clothing, she is surely muscular from all the running about she does. The flipping and jumping. Dorian was quite sure she does half of it to show off. As if he'd catch himself doing anything vaguely flippy. He'd probably fall on his head. 

"Then what do you think?" 

"Of slavery?" Dorian shifts uneasily under her green gaze. "It's better than being stuck in abject poverty, unable to get anything better. At least one could earn coin, make a living, raise a family." 

There is disappointment in her eyes. "I was a slave once." She begins slowly and he dared not interrupt. "My mother sold us into it."

He's very quiet. 

"When I was freed, it was the best and worst day of my life." Her gaze shifts away from him and he breathes a sigh of relief. "I was free but my mother? She was still stuck. I promised her I'll come back and free her. It's been years since I've seen her. She's probably still there. I wonder sometimes if my promise was that of a child who didn't understand how the universe worked. There will always be slavers. There will always be victims. But the one thing Obi-Wan taught me, was that while it may feel useless to stem the tide of an ocean, it does not make it a useless task. I do what I can and one day, I'll free her."

Her gaze returns to his and holds it. "I hope you understand where I'm coming from." 

"Of course, Herald." Dorian isn't actually sure at all. If he were a betting man, it sounded like she might go after Tevinter when she's done saving all of Thedas. 

Another bloody Exalted March. One very much well deserved but still. 

He could still see Alexius hanging in mid air, gasping for air, his feet kicking out.

//

It wasn't like it was a private conversation, right? A talk between two folks. Even if it was the Herald and all. Sera sat perched on the rooftop, hiding, listening. 

It was weird to think that the Herald could have been a slave. She'd seen slaves, she'd seen the alienage. That was shite right there. It was the worst thing ever imaginable. And then there were the rich tits and their money and they wouldn't even see them. Wouldn't see anyone but they deemed worth seeing. Did the Herald feel like that? Being tiny and non important until someone made her important? No, that wouldn't be fair. Not to her. She sounds really fond of her teacher. 

She followed the Herald around, until she lost sight of her. Drat, where'd she go? Unless she used her tricky Force shite. 

"Eavesdropping?" Asked a voice by her ear. 

Sera elbowed the voice right in the face before whirling around ready to stick her boot somewhere where the sun don't shine. 

Inky just looked at her, nonplussed, having caught the elbow with her hand. "How'd you do that? How come you can just be all sneaky and shit and just be like, I'm gonna sneak up. Don't do that. I might have broken your nose or something." 

She just grins crookedly letting go of Sera's arm. "You'll have to get better than that." 

"Just you wait, I have a lot of lizards and I know where you sleep." 

Inky laughs. "I remember when you did that to Solas." 

Sera looks up at Inky and scowls. "Why are you so tall?" 

"Why are you so short?" 

"Elf." Sera says offhandedly. "Comes with the territory." 

"I just happen to be blessed." Inky says, sitting down, mindful of the fresh snowfall. "So, how much did you hear?" 

"Of what?" Sera wouldn't ever admit to anything, it's always a lie here and a lie there. 

Course Inky could just give her a look. Not that she tries any of her Jedi tricks, but she just has this look on her face that makes Sera want to spill her guts. Or at least run away from it. 

"Just a bit. Bout your past." She waits for the Herald to dismiss her, to get angry, to toss her out on her ass. 

"Oh." 

"You mad?" 

"No. Not really. My past is a touchy subject." Inky sighs softly. "Obi-Wan always said that attachment is forbidden. I always thought he meant personal connections, but now that I think about it, he also meant grudges, regrets, memories." 

"Obi-Wan?" 

"My master. My training instructor." She gets a wistful look on her face. "He's...he's tall, but I think I'm getting taller than him. He has ginger hair and a beard. Talks super proper. He's good at negotiating." 

"Sounds a bit boring." 

"Sometimes he is. I remember all the lectures he would give me when I was younger. Anakin don't reprogram the droids to follow Yoda and make beeping noises when he backs up. Anakin don't sneak out. Anakin you can't spread rumors about Windu's hair regime." Inky laughed. Just laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. She sobers up quickly though, as if she wasn't allowed to be happy. "I miss him. He'd probably know what to do here. Better than me." 

Oh no, Inky's getting all..morose. Melancholy. Something. 

"No way. You're all right. You know, for a foreigner and all." Sera sits, hoping her bum wouldn't freeze to the roof. "You got all the mages together, gonna seal the Breach tomorrow and all that crap. We should go drinking." 

"...To get drunk?" 

"Course. Why else would we go drinking?" 

Inky just shook her head. 

//

The Breach is closed and all of Haven is celebrating. 

Bull is having a drinking contest with his Chargers and anyone brave enough to try. They were on their tenth round when the tavern grows silent. The Herald steps inside, and then they all erupt into cheers. Bull gets up and walks over, people parting for him. "Come on, let me get you a drink." He all but declares grabbing her arm and dragging her to where the others are. 

He puts a tankard before her. "Not exactly the best but it'll do in getting piss drunk." 

The Herald eyes it warily. 

"Come on, just a sip." He cajoles. "It'd put hair on your chest. Soon you'll be like Varric." 

Now she's just glaring at him but she takes a drink. 

Three tankards later and she's levitating chairs for them. 

They're all so massively drunk that when the alarm goes out, they barely hear it. 

Course then the Seeker barges in, grabs the Herald and then, then they realize that something terrible was happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have gotten sidetracked. Sorry. Next chapter will be Haven.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven, finally. 
> 
> Also, happy Father's day.
> 
> And some medical knowledge.

Josephine inspected the terms before her. While the Herald may have promised the mages equal standing, there was still much to do. It would be a historic motion, giving the mages this much freedom. It would shed a bad light on the fledgling Inquisition if they were to do this poorly. Never mind they were actually trying to close the Breach, what mattered was how they did it. How it looked. The appearance. It was the reason why she was hired after all. 

So when a foreigner, a stranger, a...honest to Maker miracle appears before them, Josephine was already combating the rumors and the allegations. 

Their Herald was the Herald of Andraste, saved by her hand, meant to close the Breach.

She is certainly not a Tevinter mage. Nor is she a mage. Nor is she a dwarf, elf or again, a mage. 

The Herald of Andraste is a demure young human woman who seeks to seal the Breach. That was the truth that the Inquisition wishes to present. 

Declared outcasts by the Chantry, feared and adored across Thedas, the Inquisition needed to set its image. That was her job, as ambassador of the Inquisition. It was a challenge, yes, but she had never shied from a challenge and this is what Leliana recruited her for. 

At first, she was uncertain as to what to make of the Herald. Decent on the eyes, dressed strangely but then again as does everyone south of Val Royeaux. She wore clothes that could have been spun at home by a hard working mother, that is part of the story she weaves, the humble beginnings of their Herald. She's an apprentice to a fighting master, it explains her abilities well enough. Raised devout and faithful by the same master.

As for the other aspects of her, her Order, her abilities or her weapon well....

It is simple to request that she refrain from exposing herself. Easier to gently infer that it would much harder to hide her. Josephine can only hope her counsel is respected and considered. 

And for a time, it is. 

The Herald came in whenever she can to take lessons about Thedas to become more well versed in what is going. She's a quick learner despite the reading barrier. Her Common is decent, her accent untraceable and she's very amicable. It is a very nice few hours where Josephine gets to actually display her wealth of knowledge to someone who actually likes to listen. 

And then, everything changed. It wasn't as if her personality had changed as much as it had revealed itself. 

It left the ambassador scrambling. 

The Herald was a head strong, exuberant, excited young woman who raced out to save people. She fought with her heart. It was like having another Cassandra. They even had the same sort of exasperated look. It left her with such a headache.

In fact, she was in the midst of writing to the Arl of Redcliffe about the results of the Inquisition helping return his lands back to him from a Tevinter Magister when she hears the alarm. She's out of her cabin and out in the cold, meeting up with Commander Cullen. 

"Whose banner are they flying?" She asks after piecing together the news the scouts bring. 

"None." 

"None?" She shivers and it was not because of the cold. 

It was she who spots the Herald. "What is wrong?" 

The Herald had a hand to her temple and was staring out towards the mountain tops. "I sense a great disturbance." 

Then there was loud banging at the door. And a voice. "I can't get in unless you let me in." 

And another voice. "Commander Cullen!" 

The door opens to a strangely dressed young man. In his hands were bloody daggers. The person next to him was at least a familiar face. A scout. 

The rest is a blur as she begins to evacuate, grabbing what they needed. It was papers, writs, things that made the Inquisition the Inquisition. It wasn't the people or even the Herald, in the end it is the deeds. They would remember the Inquisition for what they did and the only way to keep those memories was to keep records. Soldiers ran in and out, dragging people in, the terrified refugees who had flocked to Haven in pilgrimage. 

But there was no where they could go. 

They were stuck. 

Josephine had found herself outside, helping divert refugees inside, in the only standing building left. It was inconceivable to think that the templars would be attacking them. 

She barely even saw him attack her, a templar in armor, red crystals jutting out of his head. She jumps in front of the civilian, hands out, eyes wide. What could she do against this monster? What was she doing? Oh dear, Leliana was going to ever so cross with her. 

There was the sound, a hum in the air, and the templar's head rolled to the ground as the body slumped forward and collapsed. The Herald stood there in all her glory, looking a bit singed and yet heroic. Perhaps it was the panic that was coloring her vision. "Get inside." She ordered. 

Then there was a roar, a terrible screeching noise. 

"What is that?" 

The Herald glanced up. "Dragon." She looked back to Josephine. "Get inside with the others." 

The last image she sees is that of the Herald taking a running leap and grabbing the dragon's tail. 

No one was going to believe her if she ever writes about that. 

//

She pulls herself up, climbing, towards the top. If there was a top for a dragon. The head. She went for the head.

There, waiting for her was the source of the disturbance. 

Man, that guy was one ugly sith. 

"Pretender." He spat before flicking his hand at her. 

Felt like a sledgehammer was swung full force at her chest.

Anakin comes crashing down, smashing through the weakened wooden beams. She crawls out of the broken cottage, a hand resting gingerly on her side. The damn fall broke something important. "Boss?" Bull helped her up. "I need a distraction." 

"Consider it done." 

This would take all her concentration. She focused on the dragon swooping around and reached out. The damn lizard was going to stop lighting things on fire. 

She grabs the dragon with the Force, specifically grabbing the wings. It screams out as it feels phantom fingers grab it. Anakin grips hard, her hand forming a fist. She began to drag it out of the air. 

In an attempt to free itself, the dragon belched out fire at Anakin's direction. Her concentration drops as she pulls the fire away from them. The heat is blisteringly hot. 

A barrier snaps in place and the fire burns up and around them. Across from them was Solas. The usually immaculate elf was covered in soot and blood.

The dragon flies free. 

Anakin breathes lightly, minding her injured ribs. 

"We need to regroup at the chantry." Solas said, gesturing with his hand. "Everyone is there."

//

Why Samson? 

Cullen couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that it was Samson leading the rebel templars, Samson who was standing next to the monstrous creature, Samson who was attacking them. 

When had they all decided to fail in their duties? When had they all decided that it was perfectly fine to go against the vows they made? 

The horde of templars storming Haven was immeasurable. So this is where all the templars have gone. Twisted. Changed. Made. 

"Get me Grand Enchantress Fiona." Cullen barked out. 

She came at a run, taking one look at the invading army and she nodded. "I will assemble the mages." 

She is quick in organizing those who fight and those who heal. He could see the years of leadership in her. Despite what Vivenne says, Grand Enchantress Fiona could still command an army. 

Cullen mustered the soldiers, a mix of ex-templars and volunteers. It was a paltry force in comparison to what faced them. At least with Bull's Chargers they had half a chance. 

Then the dragon arrived, destroying one of their trebuchets. 

They were going to die here. But at least they got a chance to choose how. Better to die with a sword in hand than on his knees. 

"He wants the Herald." Cole, the strange boy, had said. 

Their Herald, a blood covered, burnt in place, bruised woman merely offered herself up. She had always seemed so immaculate, a figure difficult to approach. shrouded in shadow, yet she was always talking to people. She was always taking time to talk to people. It was a dichotomy he wasn't used to. 

Hawke was like that. A cheerful person in the darkness that was Kirkwall. Maybe it was a mask, for who else could be so cheerful in the midst of all that blood? 

The Herald grins, soot smudged across the bridge of her nose, it makes her oddly childish. "This Elder One won't even know what hit him."

//

“There is a path - you wouldn’t know it unless you made the Summer Pilgrimage. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could… tell you.” Roderick leaned heavily against Cole, his hand feebly attempting to staunch the bleeding. 

Leliana didn't know about this path. Something she would have to rectify the next time they make a base of operations. Had she known, they could have escaped already. Not be stuck like rats in a corner. 

Her scouts went forward first, to mark a path for the rest. 

As for herself, she lingers, to direct the others and to watch. 

The Herald, Cassandra, Solas and Bull were going back out there to buy them time. Would this be the last time she'll see them? Her Warden...Mahariel...

Mahariel had ended a Blight with only her companions and one was a dog. It proves that great enemies could be defeated. That there was a hope. 

But where was Mahariel? 

Where was the Champion? 

Why did the Maker send the Herald? An untested child who may be dabbling in blood magic if the reports were any indication. Mahariel would know what to do. Oh, how she missed her love. 

"Leliana.." Josephine whispered. "We must go." 

"Yes, Josie." Leliana begins to take the steps towards her uncertain future.

//

"Go." She already started running before the words escaped her lips. "Now." 

The explosion sends her end over end, rolling across the snow. Her head hits the ground, her vision spins, spots appearing and disappearing. She rolls a bit more before sliding to a stop. Her shoulder throbs. Her head throbs. 

Then HE appears. 

The Force bends around him, a sickly sensation spreads over the area, as if he was tainting the very ground before him. 

Anakin stands. 

Her lightsaber snaps on with a hiss. She readies herself and then the other thing appears, the dragon. It is large. It even opens its mouth as if to say, I could eat you and you'd leave nothing but tiny blood stains. 

"Enough." It gestures, the same sort of hand motion from before and he banishes the snow away, a seemingly useless display of power. But she knew. She felt it. The Force sang in her bones. The power had rattled her bones. 

"Pretender." The thing that stood amid the flames was tall. Ominous. Looming. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more." 

"Yada. Yada. Yoda." Anakin would have rolled her eyes if she thought she could get away with it. "I'm not afraid of you."

He looked almost pityingly at her. Somehow that was worse. 

"Words mortals often hurl at darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus." He lifts his clawed hand. "You will kneel." 

She twirls her lightsaber as if to say she didn't give a damn. "I only kneel to one person, and one council only." 

"You will resist. You will always resist." He didn't seem as if he was talking to her in particular, but to something else, something abstract. He pulls a round device out from somewhere, holding it. "It matters not." 

If Corypheus was a beacon in the Force, a dark beacon, the orb was something else entirely. Even looking at it, she could see. 

"I am here for the Anchor." Red energy flickers to life around the orb. "The process of removing it begins now." 

He gestures. 

There is no pushing action, no great force throwing her back but a pulling feeling. Her hand glows. It moves inside her. Seeking. Compelled. 

"It is you fault Herald. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning. And instead of dying you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived but what marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens." 

The glowing green energy, whatever that was, the magic was now joined by red. Red glowing energy. It sorely reminded Anakin of the red lyrium, of red lightsabers, of red eyes. 

Corypheus exerts his influence, forcing more of his power across the bond that the orb and the Anchor shared. It sparks, angrily and drives Anakin to her knees. Her other hand drops her lightsaber, grabbing her wrist, hoping beyond hope that her hand doesn't fly off. Dully, a part of her wondered if Corypheus wanted the Anchor back so badly, why he didn't just have his dragon eat her after cutting her hand off. 

"And you used the Anchor to undue my work. The gall." 

She bleeds her pain into the Force, trying to marshal and calm the energies fighting inside her. It was ripping her apart. 

"What is it supposed to do? Aside from being pretty!" 

He just _looks_ at her before answering. "It is meant to bring certainty to where there is none. For you the certainty that I will always come for it." 

Corypheus walks over to her. In that moment, had she been Obi-Wan, she could have sent her lightsaber flying at him, cut him in half. But her hand hurt way too much and the only thing she could do was make snippy remarks. Some Chosen One she was. 

He grabs her wrist and hoists her up. Now, Anakin wasn't a small person but Corypheus was a tall dude and strong. The bones in her wrist snap. Good thing the pain in her hand hurt more! 

Hah.

Ow. 

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused but no more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own to champion withered Tevinter, to correct this Blighted world. Beg that I succeed for I have seen the throne of the Gods and it was empty." 

His words would have been more ominous, had she understand half of what he spoke of. Instead, Anakin chose that moment to kick him in the face. 

It hurt her more than it hurt him.

He chucked her into the trebuchet. Half blinded by the pain and the brilliance that was the Orb, she smacked the wooden beams and fell with a thud onto the hard platform. 

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling." 

Anakin got up, summoning her lightsaber into her hand, the blue beam illuminating her face. 

"So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this nation and God it requires." Corypheus looked at her, at her weapon, at her clothes as if seeing her for the first time. "And you, I would not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die." 

She readies her stance. "If I am to die, I will die as a Jedi." 

"And what do you mean by that?" 

"You're an idiot and I'm a distraction." Anakin kicked the trigger. 

She was already running even before the trebuchet released the stone. The Force had warned her that there was danger to be had if she stood in the path of an avalanche. 

No fucking duh. 

The avalanche catches up to her quicker than she thought it would and it blasts her through more wooden beams. Today it would seem nature was fighting back for the number of felled trees she had cut down. The ground hurt. Everything hurt. 

The blackness came quickly.

She came to some time later. When? She didn't know. She was alive, in pain, but alive. She took quick stock of her wounds. Her wrist was broken, it was swollen. Her ribs were certainly broken but nothing had pierced her lungs, so she was lucky. Her shoulder wasn't dislocated, another good thing. A few scrapes and bruises, a knot on her forehead. 

Hungry. 

Cold.

Anakin looked at the snow. More snow. Even more snow. 

"I kriffing hate snow." 

//

Where did they go? She couldn't see anything past the snowstorm. Each step was slow. Each breath was shaky. 

_"Trust in the Force Anakin, it is your companion, your guide._

"Yes Master." She was following the kriffing Force. It was sending her further up the mountain. Up a kriffing mountain. 

The cold at least made all the hurts fade. She was numb. Also not a good sign. Anakin had never been this cold her entire life. She was born on a planet with two suns. The Temple was cold. This was...this was her freezing to death. 

At some point she had stopped and fallen to he knees. 

Can't go on. Everything frozen. Her legs felt like pieces of metal. She was dying. She was going to die on this god forsaken mountain. 

Further proof that she was dying, a blue Obi-Wan appeared before her, looking scruffy and old. 

Yep, she was dying, why else would she start hallucinating?

"Obi-" She could barely form the words, she was so cold. 

"Anakin." 

"Master." Her gaze drifted over his form. "Why are you...why do you look so old?"

"That is what happens when one ages." 

"And so blue?"

He smiles sadly. "That is what happens when one dies." 

Her hallucination sounded quite sane. And sad. Oh, no. A sad blue Obi-Wan. 

It was enough to make her laugh. 

"Anakin." The hallucination knelt, his see through hand reaching out. "I need you to focus. You're almost there. They need you." 

"Are you really there?" She sounded like a lost child. "I need your help, Master." 

Ghost-Obi smiled gently. "This path is yours and yours alone, I cannot walk it with you."

"Why?" 

"It is the direction the Force wants you to take. You are the Chosen One. With that comes responsibility and power, none that...you wished for but was thrust upon you. For that I am sorry." 

Anakin was silent for a moment. 

"I wish I told you, a long time ago." Obi-Wan stared her right in the eyes. "I've always been proud of you Anakin, always." 

"Even when I reprogrammed the droids to follow Master Yoda?" 

"Especially then."

"Heh. I knew there was a bit of fun in you." 

"I wasn't always so dour, my young padawan." 

"Can't image it."

"Hold onto that, Anakin. You will find your way back. I promise." 

"You're dead, Master. How could you promise anything?" Anger at being chosen, displeasure at everything, flared up inside Anakin, the ugly emotions that she had tried so hard to fight. "Please..please don't be dead. I can't...I can't lose you. I need you. Please. Master." Her voice cracked.

"Sometimes, there is only loss. We must strive past that, we must see past our pain. Only then can we move on." Ghost-Obi began to fade away. "Sometimes, we lose the only thing we care about. The grief makes good people do terrible things. Don't let it blind you, Anakin. Trust in yourself." 

"Yes Master." Even to this hallucination, this ghost, she couldn't bear to tell him about her fall to the dark. The brief moment when anger clouded her mind. "May the Force be with you." 

"And you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking. Some silly? Maybe?

There was something very warm by her face, and squishy. Anakin made a small contented noise, slowly opening her eyes. She blinked a few times, staring at the fleshy colored breast before her face. Huh. Weird. Suddenly that strange dream she had about being naked almost made sense. Her gaze drifted upwards to a very amused Leliana face. 

Oh. Wait. Shit. She's naked. What. Wait. 

Anakin groaned and laid her head back down. No, she'll think about this later, when it doesn't feel like someone stuffed cotton in her head.

She woke up a few hours later, this time fully aware of what was happening. Her face went red and she made no efforts of pulling the blankets over her head. Anakin covered her eyes with a hand. "Still naked?" 

"Yes. But I will dress now." Leliana's voice was teasing, amused. "Is your Order chaste as well? Or just you?"

"Yes. No. Yes." 

"You can look now." Anakin risked a peek, wrapping the blanket around herself as she sat up. "What happened?"

"Haven fell and you with it, or so we thought. But you came back to us. Somehow, in the midst of a blizzard you managed to find your way." 

"Could be your Maker's will." Anakin offered gently. 

"Do you believe in the Maker? Or are you pandering to me?" 

"I believe in your faith." 

"...You are too kind."

The amusement was gone, leaving only coldness. She is impeccable, inscrutable even when barely clothed.

"No. A true kindness would to release you from your burdens. But that isn't something any of us can do."

Anakin paused. "So..why am I naked?" 

"You were freezing. We could not use magic to warm you up, we had to do it slowly. I volunteered. Are you...concerned?" 

About being naked? Or that someone took her clothes off? 

Anakin recalled that one memorable time that Obi-Wan walked in on her while she was dressing. Before then, there wasn't really much discussion about genders or sex. She could pass for a boy for the longest time until puberty hit. Obi-Wan's face went as red as his hair and he had hurried out, shouting about sending someone else in to help. 

"I'm glad I didn't freeze to death. There was some...strange things that happened." Seeing a blue ghost was one of those things, never mind what that dark creature was. Or what it said. 

"When you are ready, we should talk. About your encounter."

//

Skyhold. What a dump. Josephine sighed as she examined the room she had taken over. But what can she do? Haven was a smoldering wreck and this was far better than tents. At the very least she could have a roaring fire in the fireplace and inbib alcohol in peace and quiet. 

Of course that wouldn't do but sometimes it was very tempting. The journey to it was full of perils, they had lost some to the cold, some to their injuries. Luckily, Leliana had an evacuation plan should the need ever arise. Of course, no one could plan on an Archdemon appearing. No one does. But even with that slight hiccup, they were able to move many valuable documents and equipment out, as well as the people. Despite that, they were now homeless. Many were terrified but many were also determined. They had seen, as she had seen, the Herald cut down the templars. They had seen her leap onto a dragon, fearlessly, with the Maker's might behind her. How else could she have survived? How else could she had fought that creature and lived? That was the story they were going to tell. Not the one where the Herald almost froze to death. Or what the Herald could do with her powers. Or where she came from. Or what she is. Whatever she is. But now that brought the question of who was to be Inquisitor. Who was to lead this Inquisition. Josephine sighed as she stared at her documents. To think she had asked for a challenge, perhaps next time she should keep her mouth shut. 

//

"What in the Maker's name are you doing? Get down from there!" Cassandra shouted at the ramparts. 

"I will!" Anakin's head peeked over the ramparts. "In a second." 

"You are not doing what I think you are doing!" She totally was.

There was a loud thump noise as Anakin jumped off the ramparts.

"Maker's breath!" 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yes. No. Am I broken?"

"You will be in a few seconds." 

"Ow. Ow." Cassandra was attempting to throttle the Inquisitor. 

"Never again!" 

"Okay, okay. You should probably tell Iron Bull that."

"What!" 

And then Iron Bull fell and landed a few feet away, shaking the ground. "Heh. That was good." 

"Maker preserve us."

"Told ya Krem. We're good! Come join us!"

"No way, chief. I just wanted to see one qunari fly, not one qunari plus his lieutenant!" 

"Come on Krem! It's all in good fun!" 

"Nope." 

//

Cullen stared at the reports. Everything blurred. Shit. It was getting worse. He attempted to clear his head, taking a small walk around, looking at the repairs that were going on in Skyhold. Were they going to make it? Would they be able to make a stand? 

They had no choice. The Breach may be closed but there was still much to do. Should he...should he pull himself away from his duties as adviser? He could barely focus some days, the symptoms were getting more distracting, more painful. Madness was beginning to creep in. Some days he just wanted...the lyrium. 

No. He gave it up. Much like he gave up being a templar. There was so much he had to atone for. The things he let pass, the things he ignored--

This was a chance to do good. To save the world. He could suffer through these symptoms. It was nothing compared to what they had to endure in Kirkwall. He failed in his duties. Because of his failure, decent people suffered. Had he been more watchful, more aware, would he be able to stop Meredith's descent? Could he had done something?

"Cullen? Hello?" 

Cullen blinked and his vision focused. "Inquisitor?" 

The Inquisitor stared at him. "You okay? You...zoned out." 

"Oh? Yes. I am." Their first meeting wasn't...good. Leliana had explained the war and it was brought up that he was a templar. Then the Herald talked to Varric, most likely, and would scowl at him. He had come to understood that the Jedi were much like mages, capable of wondrous feats, but had no one to watch over them but themselves. Then the treatment of mages came out to light and the Herald just...disapproved...severely. 

It was more like she was withholding her anger. Cullen understood. He may not have done the acts, but by ignoring it and ignoring those concerns he was as guilty, even more so. 

"Is there anything you need, Inquisitor?" 

"Yes, actually." She shifted on her feet. "Can you tell me about the Harrowing?"

Cullen blinked again."Of course, what is it that you need to know?"

"Why do it?" 

"It...it was supposed to be a way to determine whether or not the mage was susceptible to demons."

"And by tossing them into the Fade right in front of a demon is the best way to do it?" 

Cullen frowned. 

"I mean...I get it, I do, demons are scary. They're terrifying. They....they feel so...so....." The Inquisitor gestures with her hand. "But what I don't get is how a harrowing helps. Why not wait until they're older and more powerful? When they are able to actually fight back?" 

"I cannot help you there, Inquisitor. That is a question better asked to Grand Enchanter Fiona or another mage."

"But it doesn't make sense. Then there are the mages who can't even fight the demons and...what, their only choice is death or tranquility? That's..." She runs a hand through her short hair, tugging on the braid. "Barbaric." 

"There is a reason for everything. Demons are, as you say, dangerous. If a mage allows a demon in their skin, they could do untold damage. What we do is a precaution." Cullen was in no mood to argue, his head felt like it was splitting apart. "What I used to do. I know what demons could do. I know what blood mages can do. They are dangerous. Once they use blood magic or even deal with demons, they are bound to it forever. Tainted. " 

Something flickers in her eyes, an emotion of some sort that he could not determine.

"And they are to be killed?" 

"Yes. At that point, there is nothing we can do. They are a danger to themselves and to others. They are also no longer themselves if they have been consorting with demons or blood magic..." Cullen rubbed his own head. "I am sorry Inquisitor, this brings up...bad memories. May I take my leave?" 

He walks off without waiting for a reply, his head--his vision was doubling, the sunlight was blinding, even as he shielded his eyes. 

Why was the Inquisitor asking about that? For what reason?

The Inquisitor had made her stance clear on mages and templars. She was especially protective of the tranquil. 

What was it that she wanted?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people ask for help. And next...to the Abyss.

Cassandra grunts as she clashes with the Inquisitor. Bereft of a familiar weight, she puts much of her strength into the swing, and it nearly pushes the younger woman back. Using these "lightsabers" was a source of much consternation. In a sense she could see how they could be effective, cutting through armor, blades and flesh. Yet, she could also see that the use of the weapons themselves in the hands of a unskilled warrior...she felt like a barbarian. In the hands of the Inquisitor, there was only grace. What must it be like to fight with another whose skill is equal? What a display it must be.

They broke apart, the Inquisitor circling her, the tip of her blade burning the grace around her. Over the months, her swordsmanship had grown under Cassandra's tutelage. It was almost an absurd thought that she could teach the Inquisitor anything. Yet, here they were. 

Cassandra waits for the charge. They had fought each other so often, she knew her opponent's every quirk. She had, at the very least, managed to temper Skywalker's tendency to go charging into danger without a plan. This time, Skywalker feinted to the right, sweeping her blade in a downward slash. Cassandra caught it, pushing it to the side before shoulder checking Skywalker hard enough for her to hit the ground. The Inquisitor snaps back up with a flip, weapon at a ready. She had always been quick, like a flash of light, blurring along the edges with unconstrained energy. 

"Inquisitor.." She parries the next strike, firm, an unmovable object to the Inquisitor's lighting strikes. "I was hoping we could talk." 

They're still sparring as she speaks, falling into an easy tempo.

"About?" Skywalker huffs, a bit of sweat dripping down her chin. 

"About the Seekers. If Leliana gets any news about them, I want to find them and figure this out. I need to be there." It was as close to a plea as Cassandra could manage. The Inquisitor could only take a few at at time, the rest deployed to other parts of Thedas. 

"Sure." Skywalker jumps back, flipping onto a small piece of rock on the wall, a feat that would be impossible for anyone but a rogue. 

//

"Inquisitor." 

"Warden." 

Blackwall looks at his leader, at the being who is said to be the Herald. She's dressed in robes, a heavy coat on to stave off the cold. She's always been staring at him, as if trying to take him apart, piece by piece. A part of him worries if she suspects, if she knows. Does she know? The rumors spoke of her being able to read minds, sense deceit and half truths. That she could make you do anything she wants with a wave of a hand. That she's a witch. 

But those were just rumors. The Seeker wouldn't ally herself with an abomination. 

Although, one had to admit that the Inquisitor was a rather strange being. Not of their world, certainly sent from the Maker as a herald wielding her blazing blade. 

"I would like it if I were present for any of the quests that involve warden artifacts." He began, rehearsing lines in his head, things to say to convince her of his need. 

"No problem." 

Blackwall blinks at her response. "Uhmm..." He closes his mouth. "Thank you." 

She watches him and merely nods. 

Does she know? 

//

"Luminous beings we are." 

Cole's sudden appearance startles Anakin, she whirls around, her blade at his throat. The spirit looks at her blankly, not a trace of fear in his eyes. She deactivates her lightsaber, a hand to her face. She was never this jumpy before, but having spent a few months on this planet, she was always on edge. 

"Did you get that out of my head?" This planet was weird and this spirit made it weirder. But then, doesn't the universe hold the most amazing sights? The places she'd been, the people she'd met. This was just one of those instances. 

Oh, Force, she misses her home. She wants to be with her master. 

"Yes." Cole bends awkwardly, he is taller than her, the brim of his hat blocking out the sun. 

Anakin strengthened her mental shields, uncertain as to how to approach this spirit. She could sense the sincerity in his voice, the calming sensation he sends out to others. In some ways, he is like a Jedi. A somewhat stunted Jedi, but his kindness is unmatched as is his ability to pick out thoughts and feelings. 

"Sun of suns, burning brightly, always." Even hers, breezing past her shields as if they weren't there. "I see into your heart where you don't even venture, uncertain as to where it should lie." 

"It sings through you. But so does the dark, twisting and burning. It'll take you face away, give you a mask. It'll make You not You."

Anakin makes a noise, head tilted to the side, perched on the tree branch. They were waiting for the Venatori troops to come by, to ambush them. It had been hours. 

"I'm a Jedi." She spots movement, Leliana's scouts gesture briefly with his hands. 

"Not for long." Cole whispers as the Inquisitors jumps from the tree branch to the forest floor yards away. "Your path, even I can see it, strange as it is. Dark as it is. We are what we are." 

It was the way of things. Spirits are spirits. There can be no change from that.

//

She was dreaming, it had to be. She stood in the temple but it was strangely quiet. 

"Master?" Anakin looked around. "Obi-Wan?" 

It had to be a dream, a Fade dream. It was the only thing that made sense. If that was, then...then...

She focused on her memories, drawing forth the Jedi of her childhood. They formed, appearing before her. Soon the halls were filled with robed individuals. There was the chatter of low voices, master and padawan pairs making their winding paths to their destinations. 

"How are you doing this?" 

She whirled around, surprised, spotting a rather confused Solas standing there. He was dressed in...well something else. Something she'd seen in the books, images sketched of ancient elves. He was just as flabbergasted, touching his armaments with a lost expression on his face. 

"I don't know, isn't this your expertise?" Anakin shook her head and focused on her dream. On the temple. 

"What you're doing is...frankly, impossible. I never imagined that you would have such control over the Fade, over the A-" Solas stopped himself mid sentence a contemplative look on his face. "It must be your Force. They are interacting on a level I've never imagined. Does it bother you? Are you ever in pain?" 

"Sometimes. It feels like it's eating me alive." 

"Like it's getting bigger?" 

"Yeah." Anakin cast a suspicious look at Solas. "You know a lot about this mark." 

"Of course, I have studied the Fade for much of my life. That and the Veil. It is rather curious how it interacts with you. How you use your Force." Solas glanced around. "So, this is your home? The temple?" 

"Yes." 

"It reminds me of the Chantry." He says conversationally, "Are the Jedi tenants the same? Litany so old it should have been buried long ago?" 

She cast a glare in his direction. "It's not the same. The Jedi Order is not the Chantry nor is it the Circle. We're not--" Anakin breathed out frustration. For some reason, they had gotten off on a bad foot and despite her interest in elves, he'd kept her at an arm's length. It didn't help that she sensed deception from him. It seemed like half the people she surrounded herself with were liars of some sort. They all had secrets. Didn't she tell them everything about herself? The very least they could do is tell her the truth. 

"Who are you Solas?" She pointed to his clothes, to the armor that adorned his form, a far cry from the homeless apostate. "I didn't imagine that. Is that how you see yourself?" 

It would make sense. He'd always been looking to the past, to what the elves used to be. 

"Yes." She could sense no deception in that. "It is what the elves used to be, centuries ago before they were scattered to the winds." 

"It looks good on you." He looked authoritative, power settled around him like a cloak. It fitted him better. "I'm surprised you didn't think of hair." 

Solas snorted, a small smile appearing on his face. "Some things are best left in the past." 

The hallowed halls of the temple glimmered in the low light. She breathed in. Home. She wanted to go home. 

"At the very least you can have some comfort when you sleep." Solas said after a moment of silence. "Your temple is magnificent. Perhaps, one day I will be able to visit." 

"Just have to defeat one angry Sith and his massive dragon. Should be easy." 

"You believe so?" 

"Nothing like a good beheading wouldn't fix." At her words, the lightning darkened as shadows moved in. Solas watched as the temple collapsed into green mists, surrounding the young Jedi. 

The shadow she cast...what a curious thing. It was shaped different, and he could hear something akin to breathing, but heavy labored breathing. 

"Let us hope it would be so easy a task." Solas said, even as he began to awaken. If the resulting explosion of activating the orb didn't kill the darkspawn magister, a beheading wouldn't do the trick.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke ain't happy. 
> 
> (During ATOC, Anakin's age was around 19-ish. He was still a teenager. That's the timeframe I'm using.)

Varric knew the look on Hawke's face. He saw it the moment she descended from the steps, the barely contained fury in her gaze as she excused herself from speaking to the Herald. It was the same look she had when something terrible was about to happen. Hawke's frustrations were usually hidden with sarcasm, the barely polite quips she threw at her crew and at herself.

"She's a child!" Hawke's fist slammed on the table before the advisers. "I can't believe you're doing this."

She looks at Varric. "I can't believe you're going along with this!"

Then at Cullen. "You, I could."

It is to his credit that he barely flinched. "Hawke-"

"I...I can't believe that you're in this, Cullen. Didn't you have enough at Kirkwall? True, I was surprised to see mages wandering around but then there are plenty of templars here." She paced in front of them, her fingers curled in a fist. "What is this?"

Leliana was not as easily swayed or perturbed by anyone. Even the Champion. "She is the Herald. She is the Inquisitor. She is Thedas's only hope."

"Don't feed me that bullshit. She's eighteen! Barely."

"Eighteen is not a child, many are starting their own families by then. I was her age when I took my first drought of lyrium." Cullen said to Hawke. "Mages are Harrowed before that, even."

"You were not that much older when you fled to Kirkwall." Leliana interjected. "Even the Warden Commander was only a few years older."

"I had a few years of fighting experience. I knew what I was getting into. She-- what does she know that you haven't told her? You're using her as a sacrifice."

"She is an outstanding fighter." Cassandra said from her corner, rising up to the Inquisitor's defense or perhaps to the advisor's choices. Her choices. "She is the Herald of Andraste blessed by Andraste herself."

"Bullshit." Hawke sneered at them. "You really think Andraste would send a child? Wasn't there anyone else?"

"There was you!" Cassandra snapped, rising to her full impressive height. "But you were nowhere to be found! All I had was an insolent dwarf who wouldn't tell me anything. The Conclave was destroyed, hundreds dead. Her Most Holy died. If you were there....maybe..." Cassandra's fury abated. "But that is in the past. We have done the best would could and it is much more than I expected."

"We still advise her." Josephine said lightly. "It is not as if there is only one leader of the Inquisition. We're not letting her go blind."

"So, a figurehead? Controlled by you four?"

"Hey, I would like to say that I help." Varric couldn't help but pipe in.

"Shut up."

Hawke groaned rubbing her face. "If Carver wasn't in trouble...." She was half tempted to just stuff her brother into a barrel and run off onto Isabella's ship and sail off to the unknown. Better than being in Thedas where danger was around every corner. She had already watched one city burn to the ground. Did she want to watch a country fall? 

"What of the the Warden?" Hawke asked, looking at Leliana who was the Spy Master and rumored lover of the Warden Commander. 

"I have not been in contact for some time." The chilly look Leliana gave Hawke could have frozen the blood in her veins. "The reports are troubling. I can only hope she is not present for it."

Hawke groaned dragging a hand through her hair. She was here to help. She was here to end the mistakes of the past. "Okay. Meet me Crestwood. I can tell you more there. It isn't something to be discussed in the open. We don't have must time, anyways. Oh, and pack your rain gear. And fire. Don't forget fire."

"Fire?" That was Josephine.

"Loads of undead."

//

The dead should not haunt the living. Or try to stab them for that matter. Anakin cut her way through them, her lightsaber meeting no resistance.

"Hey, that was pretty neat!" Hawke, Varric's friend, shouted from across the field. "Can I get one?"

It was, safe to say, that Anakin didn't like how...sarcastic Hawke was. She had read about the Champion and talked to Varric but it was all quite different in the flesh. Hawke was irritating to say the least. She didn't seem to like Anakin and the feeling was quite mutual. 

"Here we are." It was a cave. How dour. Inside stood a person. 

Through the Force, she could sense something clinging to the warden. It wasn't like the sadness that sat in Blackwall's eyes, or the grief that clung to Leliana like a shadow. It felt alive in a sense, a part of the warden, entwined in their very being. It didn't have the same presence red lyrium did, there were no echoes of a song. Her problem lied in that Blackwall did not have the same presence. 

"Loghain Mac Tir." Hawke said as an introduction. It was supposed to mean something given how everyone else in the party reacted.

Anakin just raised an eyebrow.

The story was drawn out easily. Something about wardens. Demons. Blood Magic. Nothing that she could fathom. "Blood magic?" She looked to Cassandra.

"The foulest of magics. Using the blood of others or their own they can control demons and do many heinous things. There is power there, certainly, a blood mage is very dangerous." She looked disgusted. "For the wardens to use blood magic, they must have lost their minds, surely. Why would they do such a thing?"

"Fear." Loghain looked aged beyond his years. Tired. "A great deal of fear. It is unheard of that the Calling would happen at the same time, to everyone, even those who were just inducted in the Order."

Fear? Anakin gazed into the fire. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate and hate....hate lead to suffering. She drew her legs up, a frown on her face. The wardens were individuals who could fight darkspawn and not get tainted. They were called into action when a Blight occurred. Any information on wardens were closely guarded by the order. They were heroes. One could almost replace wardens with Jedi. One could also replace blood magic with the dark side. Truthfully, any organization can draw parallels with the Jedi Order as in the end, that is what the Jedi Order was. A group of like minded individuals working towards a purpose. But the Jedi Order wouldn't go to the dark side, they wouldn't do anything that ridiculous. The Council would never allow such a thing to happen. 

"Do mages practice blood magic? How is it different from magic? Don't they both tap into the Fade?" She found herself asking, looking at Cassandra and Dorian.

Dorian answered first. "Well for one thing it is forbidden to be practiced in Tevinter. From what I've heard, one can do rather terrifying things, control your body and mind. Make you do things that you wouldn't do. It's also used to bind demons. The Magisters of old used blood magic to rule the world. It's no longer practiced in Tevinter, well, openly. I'm sure there are some who do."

"Yes, I met one." Hawke added dryly. "Killed him too."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Blood magic is dangerous." Hawke scowled. "But not all of it." She sighed. "Like all magic, it depends on how you use it. It isn't inherently evil. It can be used it to heal, to help. But most blood mages use it to hurt people. A lot of the blood mages I met were crazy, out of their flipping mind, and I had to put down a lot of blood mages. It doesn't tap into the Fade, something I found out while fighting blood mages. I'm not sure if the magic twisted them or if they were already like that." 

"Magic is meant to serve man." Cassandra cut in. "Which is why the Circle was created, to keep an eye on mages and to make sure they don't use their abilities to terrorize people." 

"Anyone is dangerous. A child could kill." Hawke glanced at Anakin and then back at Cassandra. "Magic just makes it easier. I know plenty of apostates who were able to control themselves with the Circle."   
  
"Yes, and we all know how that ended up." Cassandra placed both hands on her thighs, away from her sword.

"That wasn't his fault."   
  
"Really? He blew up the Chantry! Killed the revered mother! Started the mage rebellion!" 

"He didn't start anything that wasn't already there! In case you haven't noticed, not everyone was happy to be stuck in a tower for their entire life!" 

"There has to be a safe place for the mages to learn." 

"Safe? Safe for who? Everyone else?" 

"The allegations of what happened are--" 

"True. And they knew it. They all knew. No one came to help. There were no Seeker investigation or oversight. There was no justice. Anders tricked me too. I helped him and I didn't know it, not until the explosion. If you're going to blame anyone, blame me. I didn't notice until it was too late." 

Cassandra's voice softened as did her expression. "I am sorry that all those people suffered. You are not to blame for someone else's actions. The Chantry has failed those who needed its protection the most. Which is why the Inquisition is doing this without the Chantry. Someone has got to close those rifts and protect the people." 

"You're not doing that bad of a job. Even with girl wonder over here." Hawke jerked a thumb at Anakin. 

"Hey!" 

A comfortable silence filled the cave. 

"So, anyone up for Naked Grace?" 

//

As it turns out, there was a Venatori magister pulling the wardens strings. It explained a few things. Not everything though. 

It was a mad rush as they attempt to get to Erimond before the ritual could be completed.

There were some wardens who refused to be sacrificed, who didn't agree to blood magic, who were not under the magister's control. With their support, they fought their way to the courtyard where Clarel was to be bound. Blackwall speaks to them, convinces them and it is here that Erimond's control wavers. Here, he reveals his madness. And his dragon.

Anakin darts her way through the warden ranks, uncertainty in her steps. This place was filled with demons, clawing under skin that wasn't theirs, their howls echoing in her mind. They were being controlled and there was a fair chance that if they stop Erimond, it could be reversed. 

She leaps over a warden cutting down a demon that would have killed him. The Jedi makes her way to the dragon, feeling Erimond die in the Force, sensing the intent of the dragon. She force grabs Clarel and drags her out the way of danger. The dragon's jaws snap into air and in its fury, destroys the walkway they were on.

They fall.

And fall.

Anakin extends her hand out, the wind whipping past her cloak, and breaths in.

Here, the Veil was weak.

Here, the Force thrums in her bones.

Here, she could feel the fear entrenched in every soul.

A rift swallows them up into the raw Fade.

//

"Curious." Solas stands upside down, his eyes looking towards the Black City.

"How is this curious?" Hawke looked disturbed. Anyone with half a brain should. This was the Fade. They shouldn't even be walking around in this place. But, she'd have to admit, the Kid was rather interesting. A whirlwind of death, as one might say. The lanky teen had proven to be an experienced fighter and Not a mage. Which was weird. 

Said Kid was standing there and just...staring into the distance.

"Inquisitor?" The Seeker looked as uncomfortable as Hawke felt. Thank the Maker someone had a bit of sense in their head.

"There." The Kid pointed. "That is where we must go."

Must be this Force thing. Whatever that was. Some weird thing that guides people and is inside them. Like a demon. Hawke's lips twitched.

At some point she was going to wring out the story out of Varric. After this. If they ever get out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nightmare speaks. Hawke ignores it. Anakin listens.

The raw Fade teemed with....nothing. But there was something there, something in the mists. It followed the Inquisitor like some lost puppy, curling around her boots and robe. The Fade wasn't alive. It certainly shouldn't act like it was. Loghgain Mac Tir trailed behind the group, a hand on the hilt of his sword, wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into. It was fortuitous that even as a Warden he was ostracized from the others, else he would have been caught by whatever was effecting the other Wardens. For once, his reputation helped him.

How were they even breathing? Did this mean the Fade had air? Gravity?

He shifted his gaze from the rocks and more rocks, to the Inquisitor. He never expected a pale faced youth as the Inquisitor, but then, he never predicted that the Warden would be a Dalish elf. Or that the band of misfits would actually muster a force to defeat him, to defeat the Archdemon. It didn't surprise him that the Inquisition continued to grow in influence, it was backed by the Right and Left Hand of the Divine. Their figurehead was a surprise but only a tiny bit. It made sense that they would elect someone they could control. However, from what he has seen it would seem they had less control than he assumed. 

He wouldn't be surprised if a qunari was deemed to be the Herald. He could taste the desperation in the air, in the eyes of his fellow Wardens when the Calling began. The Chantry must of soiled their collective robes when the Rift opened and the Divine died. It made sense why the Chantry, notoriously pro-human, would start to accept other races into their ranks. Well, that was a stretch. They accepted other races as mercenaries. The Inquisition may claim to not be in collusion with the Chantry but they were being lead by the Right and Left Hand of the Divine. Really. Even he made better plots than that.

Then again, a Dalish elf and her mabari foiled his plots.

//

"Was that her? Was it Divine Justinia?" Cassandra's sure steps wavered with uncertainty. "It looked like her." 

"Most probably a demon." Hawke muttered. "We're in the Fade for Andraste's sake. If we didn't run into a demon I'd say we all died and the Chantry lied." 

"We're not dead. If I were dead, I hoped not to be with all eternity with you lot." While he had worked on regaining his honor over the past ten years, Loghgain Mac Tir was not one to suffer fools. "Although, the Seeker is exempt." 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. 

"We're not dead." The Kid swept a hand out. "We're in too much pain to be dead." 

"What do you sense?" Hawke looked around. 

"Fear." Her gaze focused towards the west. "And our way out." 

"It must be the Nightmare demon, the closer we get to it the easier it will find us." 

_"Find you? I already found you."_

 Anakin whirled around and spotted herself. Or, himself? A tall male Jedi with unruly hair stood a few feet away, a scar on his face. His blazing red eyes met her green ones. 

What was she looking at? Was it her? It certainly resembled her. The man smiled at her in a crooked manner, as if he knew something she didn't. _"They can't see me. Not like the way you can."_

"Is there something the matter Inquisitor?" Cassandra asked, her eyes scanning the horizon. 

No one could see it. No one but her. A heavy weight dropped into her stomach. 

She felt the words on the edge of her tongue. "Nothing. I didn't see anything.

 _"If you continue on this path, you'll find the fear you have left behind, the readiness that have steeled your resolve will vanish. Your Inquisition is so fragile, it just takes a push to bring it toppling down."_  

 

// 

"Is that it?" Hawke didn't go anywhere near the glowy things that the fake!Divine proclaimed were the lots memories of the Inquisitor. Who knows what it really was? Besides, it wasn't as if anything was getting better. For one thing, the Kid was getting progressively distracted as they traveled in the Fade. If she didn't know better, she'd peg the Kid as being possessed. But that wouldn't be possible.   
  
"It would appear so." Cassandra was also a healthy distance away.  Seeker she may be, but she acts like a templar. "Are you ready?" 

The Kid nodded and knelt down, her hand outstretched. 

There was a flicker then a flash and Hawke raised a hand over her eyes. When she pulled her hand away, they were no longer in the Fade. Around them was dull grey metal, a loud and sharp wailing that made her clap her hand over her ear. She soon realized that it didn't matter, it was all in her head. Well, in her head but not her memories. 

"Master! This way!" 

Two figures barreled down the hallway a whirl of brown and blue following in their wake. There was a sound of pain and the smell of burnt flesh. The shorter one grabbed the bigger one, almost tumbling head over heels as the hallway shook. The hallway continued but this time was littered with bodies. Hawke chased after the duo, noting the burn marks on the walls and the not-human bodies that she stepped over. 

"Skywalker, the escape pod two hundred meters to the left has yet to be deployed." 

The smaller robed person, Skywalker, veered to the left while half carrying the taller individual. 

She touched a blinking light and a door opened. Well she assumed it was a door. Everything was very strange. She didn't even know what it was that she was seeing. If this was where the Kid came from it explained a lot.   
  
Skywalker pushed the taller robed male through the door before whirling around, her hands up. 

Hawke spun about, wondering if she saw an enemy. What she did see was fire. 

The flames engulfed her vision and once more she shielded her eyes with her hand. When the flame and the heat died away, she was at the Conclave. There were Grey Wardens holding the Divine captive. The thought chilled her. Was she going to watch the Divine die? 

"Keep the sacrifice still." Boomed Coryshit holding a shimmering ball in one hand. 

The Grey Wardens did as bade when the door slammed open and a slightly singed Skywalker fell through. She rolled to her feet, her light sword activated, confusion in her voice and blue eyes. "Where's Obi-Wan?"   
  
"What is this? Kill the intruder." 

The Divine slapped the ball away from Coryshit's grip. Hawke cheered. It hit the ground and rolled towards Skywalker. She, rather thoughtlessly in Hawke's opinion, grabbed it with her hand. Coryshit ran forward, dismay on his face. The green orb flared and began to glow. 

Again, there was a flash of light, green this time. 

When she opened her eyes, they were in the Fade. Well, still in the Fade but present in mind. Hawke groaned and rubbed her hair. "That's great. Turns our you are not the Herald chosen by Andraste. Bloody luck and foolishness." 

And the spirit was back. 

Loghgain was silent for the most part. Cassandra looked lost and pained, as if the rug was pulled from under her feet. If Hawke was a more charitable woman, she would have felt sorry for the Seeker. But then, she wasn't the one believing in a lie. Or actively particpating in a lie. The elf didn't seem at all perturbed. Solas wasn't at all like Merril, aside from their shared interest in ancient elven artifacts. While she was bubbly, he seemed to be content in living in a sphere of his own influence. Even now he viewed the Fade with more regard than them. 

"I wish I could spare you this. That I am the person you want me to be." The spirit said softly to Cassandra. 

Cassandra's face was a mix of pain and sorrow. 

"You didn't fail me. Had you been there, I would have lost you and who would lead the Inquisition? Who would protect those who are faithful?" The spirit took a step forward placing a hand on Cassandra's gauntlet. "Do not fear the Nightmare. It is your strength that has gotten you this far. Rely on that strength and resolve that have carried you throughout your adult life.

"Fear is the small things, the tiny cuts, the small injustices. If you let it, it will devour you."  She addressed the group. "What you face is a demon that have feasted on those fears and grown powerful. Once you pass that outcropping it will find you, eventually. And it will tell you things that you fear and things that will be true." 

"Oooh. Let me confess that I'm scared of spiders. Especially ones the size of a horse. Spiders should not be that big." Hawke said dryly. "There, that wasn't hard. How about you Seeker?" 

"No comment." Came the brusque reply, Cassandra's gaze fixed on the spirit. 

"And, and..umm...losing the rest of my family. The rest that I have which is bloody Carver. I already lost everyone else I cared about." Hawke turned to shout at the sky. "Give it your best shot! I'm not scared of you!" 

Anakin hugged herself. She glanced to the side where the demon waited. Her male doppelganger sat on the rocks, amusement on his face. He whispered to her, making comments and generally enjoying himself needling her.

 _"Was that a challenge? Oh, I love challenges."_  

"We need to head back quickly. The others are still fighting the wardens." Loghgain said sharply. "We will tackle the obstacles as we meet them." 

"He's right." Anakin cleared her throat. "We need to get out first. The rest can be dealt with later." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
